


Peace Begins With A Smile

by Ltleflrt



Series: Peace Begins With A Smile [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 72,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris really does know how to smile and laugh.  He just needs to be given a good reason to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've played DA2 several times (14 at last count), and half of them I romance Fenris because he's so cute when he smiles. I've noticed that he actually has a very good sense of humor, but he's portrayed as always angry, always brooding in the fanfics I've read. Don't get me wrong... I'd have broody babies in his honor too! But I really wanted him to have as much happiness as possible, and so does my Hawke. Also, I've never written a fanfic before. This is my first time. Please be gentle. I have no idea how long this will be, but I know I'm not done yet :)

The loud pounding against his front door startled Fenris. He didn’t really want to answer the insistent knocking, and since the outside world should think this mansion was abandoned months ago, he decided it would be prudent to pretend there was no one home. He wasn’t going to be caught off guard though, so he grabbed his sword, and moved on silent feet downstairs to the foyer. He’d simply peek through the windows near the door to see who it was.

He was halfway there when his sensitive ears picked up muffled voices and a click from the door. He frowned in irritation when he recognized who was invading his temporary home. Quickly he moved into the shadows next to the door, and pressed himself against the wall.

“Really, Isabela,” Hawke’s voice drifted through the open door. “Maybe he’s not home.” He sounded like he was trying to be stern, but Fenris could hear the laughter hidden behind the words. 

“Nonsense,” she replied. “Where else would he be?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Hawke said as they made their way carefully around the traps Fenris had left. “He could be out shopping for lace curtains to brighten this place up.”

“Lace curtains?” Isabela snickered. “How would he hang them without snagging them on those spiky gauntlets he’s always wearing?”

“Hm, good point. Maker, I hope he removes them to relieve himself,” Hawke said with a chuckle.

Isabela let out a purring sound. “If not, then I imagine he’d need to have a… delicate touch.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. He stepped from the shadows behind them. “I see it is time to invest in better locks.”

The way his two uninvited guests jumped and spun around to see him was comical, and Fenris allowed himself a small smile of amusement. Their faces reminded him of two children caught peeking at their Satinalia gifts. Hawke, who had been looking at him guiltily through thick lashes, suddenly tilted his chin back up and stared at Fenris intently. 

Fenris’ smile faded and he swallowed, uncomfortable with the intense scrutiny. 

“Oh good, you’re home!” Isabela exclaimed, pulling his attention away from Hawke, and totally disregarding the fact that she’d just broken into his home. “We came by to invite you to play Wicked Grace with us at The Hanged Man tonight.”

Fenris frowned, and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “I have nothing with which to play.” Hawke had been generous enough to share the proceeds from the jobs Fenris assisted him with, but he had recently restocked the larder, and purchased a new sword to replace the one that had been ruined by the jaws of the dragon they’d slain at the Bone Pit.

“Nonsense! We’ll play for clothing!”

Hawke groaned. “Isabela-“

Isabela grinned wickedly. “Oh come on Hawke. I want to see what color his underwear is!”

Fenris didn’t want to respond, but found himself opening his mouth anyway. “My… underwear?”

“Well I’ve already seen Hawke’s, so you’re next on my list.” Isabela said with a wink.

Hawke rolled his eyes at her, then turned to Fenris. “I can front you a sovereign or two,” he said. “Otherwise I’d suggest wearing layers. She cheats.”

Fenris hesitated. He had yet to visit The Hanged Man, although he had also received an invitation from Varric on more than one occasion. He’d been reluctant to accept. After his initial angry confrontation with Hawke, he hadn’t expected any of the mage’s friends to take kindly to him. In fact, he’d been rather shocked the first time Hawke had shown up at Danarius’ mansion to cheerfully ask him to tag along on an adventure. 

They’d spent some time talking that day, the first time they’d ever been alone together. He’d been snappish and surly at first, but Hawke had merely smiled at him, and continued to ask his questions. 

_“Had I known Anso would find me a man so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner,” Fenris said with a small smile._

_Hawke’s smile lit up the room. “Flatterer. Maybe I should be thanking Anso.”_

_“Maybe you should,” Fenris said with a chuckle. “Perhaps I will practice my flattery for your next visit? With any luck I will become better at it.” Where had that come from? Was he flirting with this mage? He told himself it was difficult not to return such an open smile._

After spending the last few weeks being dragged through sewers, trekking through The Wounded Coast, and even clearing a local mine of a dragon infestation, he’d learned that Hawke was always cheerful. It could be rather annoying sometimes. Like now, for instance.

Hawke noticed his hesitation and grinned at him widely, “Isabela, I think he’s afraid of us.” 

“What?” Fenris demanded in surprise. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Hawke said, drawing the word out, “I’m a future magister, and Isabela here is plotting to have you stripped down to your smalls before midnight. Who wouldn’t be a little intimidated?” He rubbed his knuckles through his beard thoughtfully. “I’m not sure which one you should be more afraid of, actually.”

Fenris winced. He hadn’t thought Hawke had been paying attention to his argument with Anders about freedom for mages, but apparently he had. _The moment they are free, mages will make themselves magisters._ Once again, he had put his foot in his mouth around the other man. He did believe mages were dangerous, he just didn’t see anything malicious or power hungry in Hawke. So far. He still watched the other man closely. His friends clearly looked to him for leadership, and that put Hawke in a position of power, which could be dangerous. 

“I am not afraid of either of you,” Fenris finally growled. “I will come tonight.”

Isabela bounced happily, drawing both men’s eyes to her ample cleavage. She stepped close to him and practically purred. “I hope they’re black,” she murmured. Then with a wicked smile and a wiggle of her fingers at both of them, she slipped past him and out of the mansion. 

Fenris swallowed nervously, and looked back at Hawke who was grinning fondly after Isabela, his eyes firmly on the sway of her scantily clad hips. He felt a small jolt of something near his heart, but refused to acknowledge it. 

Once the door closed behind her Hawke looked back at Fenris, and the elf felt his breath hitch. Hawke was a very handsome man, and it was a little nerve racking to be the center of his attention. His black hair fell over his forehead messily, just long enough to get in his eyes, and Fenris often found himself tempted to brush the locks aside so he could get a better look at their whiskey color.

As if reading his mind, Hawke reached up and brushed his hair back. “So, did you want to borrow those sovereigns?”

“I am not sure when I’ll be able to pay you back,” Fenris said warily.

Hawke snorted dismissively. “We’ll work it out.”

“Then yes,” Fenris replied with a grateful dip of his head. “Thank you.”

“Poor Isabela,” Hawke said with a chuckle. “She really wants to know what color your underwear is.” He leaned closer conspiratorially, “I think she just doesn’t want to lose our bet.”

“What bet?” Fenris asked in confusion.

Hawke leaned a little closer, and Fenris felt the lyrium in his skin tingle in response to the mage’s nearness. He inhaled slightly, the scent of ozone after a lightning storm filling his head.

“I bet her that you don’t wear any,” Hawke said with what could only be defined as a sinful smile. 

Before Fenris could do any more than blink in shock, the other man winked at him and made his way out the door after Isabela. “See you tonight,” Hawke called jauntily over his shoulder with a backwards wave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strip Wicked Grace ftw!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! Chapter 2 already! I am using a lot of the party banter from in game dialog because that is what inspired the story in the first place. I hope y'all don't mind too much. I don't expect this to completely follow the timeline of the game though. Thanks for the comments and the kudos... it's amazingly motivational!

Several hours and a bottle of wine later, Fenris found himself seated around the large table in Varric’s private suite at The Hanged Man. 

Hawke sat at the end of the table to his right, and Isabella was straight across from him. Several times Fenris felt movement under the table, and noticed the two of them smiling slyly and studiously not looking at each other. He resisted the urge to look under the table to find out if he was right about the ongoing game of footsie. He didn’t really want to know, he told himself. 

At one point Isabella leaned close to Hawke to grumble in his ear quietly enough that the rest of the table wouldn’t hear. Fenris’ sensitive ears caught it easily, “You’re ruining my fun Hawke.”

“Keep your feet to yourself then, woman,” Hawke whispered back. “I’ve got dibs.”

“I’m not making a move on him, I just want to see if he’s ticklish in sensitive areas,” Isabella said with a small leer and a quick glance at Fenris which he pretended to ignore. 

“No.” Hawke said simply.

Isabella sat back with a huff. “Well, someone never learned to share their toys,” She grumbled, and the under the table shenanigans ended. 

Fenris didn’t know what to make of that conversation, so he turned his attention back to the cards in his hands.

He was down by two sovereigns, both gauntlets, and his pauldrons. He wasn’t doing as poorly as the others though. Everyone else were in various degrees of undress, although thankfully Carver had dropped out before he could lose his smalls. Aveline and Anders had both dropped out of the game when the ante had switched from coin to cloth. Aveline stating that she needed to be “prepared for duty, should the need arise”, and Anders because his demon passenger was made uncomfortable by the lascivious looks he received from Isabella the last time he’d lost his clothes to her playing Wicked Grace. 

His current hand held promise, but he was learning that didn’t mean much when playing against Isabela. He could never catch her sleight of hand, but she must be cheating, as Hawke had said she would. She had only lost once so far. With a naughty grin and a shimmy, she slipped off the tiny black pantalets she wore under her long tunic. She’d sling-shotted them at Hawke’s face as she sat back down, much to the amusement of everyone else at the table. 

Fenris hadn’t been amused. He’d felt that tightening in his chest again when Hawke twirled them around one finger for a moment, then tucked them in his waistband like a trophy. His grin matched Isabella’s for wickedness. Those two were really like two peas in a pod sometimes.

“So, Fenris,” Isabela said slyly as she shuffled the cards in her hand into some unknown order. “What’s with that magical fisting thing you do?”

“I’m… sorry?” Fenris asked in surprise.

“You know,” she said with a grin. “Where you stick your hand into people.”

Fenris flushed until he could feel the heat in the tips of his ears. He wasn’t going to let her get the best of him though. If he could throw her off, he might actually win this hand. “Oh. That. Yes it’s a… talent.”

“You could make so much coin with that,” Isabela replied cheekily.

“He’ll need it after you’re done fleecing him,” Varric grumbled good naturedly from the other end of the table. 

Everyone laughed, and Fenris smiled in amusement. His initial nervousness around so many people, including three mages had faded as the night progressed, with a little help from the truly awful wine he’d imbibed. His eyes wandered over the faces of the people gathered, falling on Hawke last. 

Hawke was staring at his mouth. 

Fenris’ smile faded and he cleared his throat nervously when Hawke frowned slightly. He looked back down at his cards, and pretended to concentrate. When the hand was over, he’d lost. He removed what was left of his chest armor. All he wore now were his leather pants, and a soft black sleeveless shirt. 

“Oh dear,” Merrill said in a worried voice. “I’m afraid I’ll have to sit out the rest. I haven’t anything else to take off, and I’m afraid it’s a little too chilly in here as it is.”

“Drink a bit more, Kitten,” Isabela chortled. “It’ll warm you right up.” She slanted a knowing look at Carver who had been visibly trying not to stare at Merrill since the first article of clothing came off. “And you won’t be the only one, I’m quite sure.”

“As fun as this has been Rivaini, I think I’m done for the night also,” Varric said with a rueful smile. He tossed what was left of his cards to the center of the table where Isabella gathered them up and slipped them back into the deck. “I have no desire to end up naked tonight. I wouldn’t want to make Bianca jealous.”

A chorus of agreement from around the table made Isabella pout. “Oh come on,” she whined. “I haven’t gotten to see Fenris in his underwear yet.”

“Why don’t you just ask him what color they are?” Merrill asked, genuinely curious. “It seems a simpler way to find out.”

Carver let out a sound of disgust. “Please wait until I leave. I really don’t care to know.”

Isabella chuckled richly. “My way is much more fun, Kitten.”

Hawke leaned back in his chair, and propped his hands behind his head. He winked at Isabela, then turned to Merrill with his customary wide grin. “Indeed,” he said. “It’s second on my list of most enjoyable ways to find out.” 

“Oh?” Merrill chirped. “What is the first on your list?”

Fenris found himself holding his breath as those dark whiskey colored eyes turned to meet his. 

“He’s such a handsome elf,” Hawke said in a low smooth voice. He paused, and one corner of his mouth quirked a little higher. “Well I think it’s obvious; the most enjoyable way would be to seduce him of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad jokes and misunderstandings.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Fenris had known what was coming, but the statement still shocked a surprised chuckle from him. Still smiling, he shook his head and dismissed Hawke’s flirting. It was difficult to take seriously when the mage flirted with everyone.

Laughter filled the room, and he was surprised to find himself enjoying it, even if he was the butt of the joke. Being a slave and the master’s favorite had made him no friends in Tevinter. This group of people seemed to accept him, and include him in their conversations without thought. It felt strange, but not unpleasant.

Carver let out a disgusted snort and got up from the table. “Well if we’re done, I’m going to head home before I get too drunk to find my way,” he grumbled. “Are you coming, brother, or do you plan on making eyes at your elf all night?”

Hawke who had been staring at Fenris through all the laughter after his comment finally looked away, to turn his piercing gaze on his brother in annoyance. “Don’t be an arse, Carver,” he said.

“What did I say?” Carver asked incredulously.

“He’s an ex-slave, you idiot,” Hawke growled. “He’s not my elf.”

Fenris was shocked. Carver’s comment had irritated him, but he hadn’t expected anyone else to notice the reference, much less point it out as Hawke was doing now.

Carver only rolled his eyes. “That’s not how I meant-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Hawke interrupted. “Make me proud, and think before you speak occasionally.”

Carver opened his mouth angrily, but before he could say anything Merrill placed a small hand on his arm. “Will you walk me home, Carver?” She asked. “I still haven’t gotten the hang of all the left turns, and I don’t want to get lost in the dark.” The younger Hawke sibling deflated in the face of her smile and he nodded dumbly. The two of them shimmied back into their clothes and left together, Carver with a glare at Hawke, and Merrill with a happy wave and a smile.

It wasn’t long before Aveline also left. She had duty the next day, and had already stayed longer than she originally intended. She clapped a hand on Hawke’s bare shoulder (he still hadn’t put his clothes back on after the game) before she left and leaned down to ask him to meet her the next day because she had some work lined up for him.

Isabella had gone down to the bar to order more drinks, but wasn’t back yet. So Fenris and Hawke found themselves alone at their end of the table, quietly sipping their drinks while Anders and Varric sat at the other end of the table telling each other jokes.

“So, a human, an elf, and a dwarf walk into a bar-“

Anders interrupted with a laugh and a finger pointed at Varric triumphantly, “The human says, ‘You’re lucky you’re so short. That hurt like mad!’”

“You could have just stopped me, Blondie,” Varric huffed.

Anders chuckled, “Why waste a good set up?”

Despite himself, Fenris chuckled again. He was comfortably tipsy, and it was warm here in Varric’s suite. He didn’t really look forward to going back to the drafty mansion for the night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed.

“You should do that more often,” Hawke said quietly from beside him.

Fenris turned to Hawke curiously. “Do what?” he asked.

“Smile,” Hawke said, “Laugh.”

“I do not have reason to, much of the time,” Fenris said in the same low tone, smile gone for now.

Varric who caught the last part of their conversation from across the table chimed in. “Brooding must be a sport in Tevinter. Do they hold competitions? Hand out trophies for the best scowls?”

Fenris scowled at the dwarf, “I’m not brooding.”

“Moping then,” Varric suggested. “You seem like you’re a champion at it.”

“I’m perfectly content at the moment,” he said defensively.

“Oh? So that’s you smiling?” Varric teased. “Good to know.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, and took a sip of wine. He refused to allow Varric to bait him further.

Unfortunately, Anders decided to chime in. “Well at least he’s brooding silently at the moment, and not harping on mages.”

With a grunt of disgust, Fenris plunked his cup down on the table, “Do you really want to do this now?”

“Why not?” Anders shot back. “I might as well speak my mind while I’m still free,” he said snidely.

Fenris opened his mouth to voice an angry reply, but he stopped when he felt Hawke touch his hand. A sizzle of electricity passed into his tattoos through the mage’s fingers. He jerked his hand away in surprise.

“Anders,” Hawke said sternly to the other mage. “Leave it be for the night. It’s too late for political debate.”

Anders sighed. “You’re right, Hawke. I’m sorry,” he said with a nod to include Fenris in his apology.

Fenris nodded too. The abomination had spoiled his mood which meant it was probably time to go home. He swigged down the rest of his sour wine. “I should go,” he said as he set the empty cup on the table before him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Hawke said.

“That won’t be necessary-“

“Please,” Hawke said, then slugged back the last of his ale. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Give me just a moment, and you can protect me from overly friendly bar maids and sailors on our way out.”

Fenris snorted, but didn’t move to leave.

Hawke shook hands with Varric, thanked him for the use of his suite, then he bent down and hugged Anders around the shoulders from behind. He whispered something in the mage’s ear that made him relax with a smile and a nod. It was an intimate moment that confused Fenris. Both because of the act itself, which clearly calmed Anders down, and his own reaction to it.

“You should just teach me how to cure my hangover,” Hawke said at a normal volume as he stood up. “Then I won’t have to interrupt your work at the clinic every morning after a night of drunken revelry.”

“But then I won’t get to watch your tight arse when you walk out of my clinic afterwards,” Anders teased.

Fenris told himself the ache in his chest was indigestion. He even pretended to believe it.

They made their way downstairs and navigated through the still busy taproom. They drew many looks, wary in his case, and appreciative in Hawke’s. From some of the leers Hawke received, Fenris now understood his comment about protection. Many of them might have approached Hawke, but changed their mind when they saw the brooding elf at his side. It made him feel like a body guard again.

He frowned, making a bar maid he barely noticed skittered away nervously at the ominous expression. Apparently Isabela and Carver considered him “Hawke’s”, and now he was playing shield for the mage.

Just as they were opening the door to walk outside a whistle from the bar brought him out of his dark thoughts. He and Hawke both turned to see Isabela waving at them. Hawke blew her a kiss, and Fenris gave her a half smile and a wave in return as they left.

“Ah, now there’s the smile again,” Hawke said from beside him.

Fenris was glad for the darkness when he felt himself flush all the way up to his ears again. Why did that soft tone Hawke was using always make him blush?

“Why do you feel the need to point it out?” Fenris asked in irritation.

“And it’s gone again,” Hawke said in disappointment.

“Well?” Fenris demanded, still curious.

Hawke chuckled. “Fishing for compliments, are we?”

Fenris crossed his arms, and refused to rise to the bait. “Fishing for answers,” he said simply.

Hawke rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just like to see my friends happy,” he said a little defensively.

Fenris doubted that was all there was to it, but his attention was caught by the statement nonetheless. “Are we friends?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” Hawke said in surprise. “Did you think otherwise? I mean, you’ve seen my manly bare chest now. That must mean we’re something.”

Fenris took a deep breath and sighed. Should he bring up the subject of Carver’s comment earlier?

Hawke beat him to it. “Is it because my tit of a brother is especially fond of the taste of his own feet?”

Fenris hesitated, but the earnest curiosity on Hawke’s face prompted him to continue. “That is part of it yes,” he said. “I also believe Isabela referred to me as your ‘toy’.”

Hawke winced, “Heard that, did you?”

“You constantly request my protection.” Fenris added. He looked away feeling hot anger at the thought of Hawke treating him like a slave filling him. “I do not wish for another master.”

Hawke’s eyes widened in shock and he put his hands up in front of him placatingly. “Whoa,” he said. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That is not ok. Maker help me, is that how you think I see you?”

Fenris instantly regretted allowing the conversation to go this direction. “No, I didn’t mean-“. He huffed in exasperation and slashed a hand through the air dismissively, “I am sorry Hawke. It seems I let my paranoia carry me to the wrong conclusions.”

Hawke shook his head. “I’m glad it came up, if it truly bothered you. If you ever feel that is where our relationship is headed, please tell me, because it is certainly not my intent to bind you to me like that.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said.

“So,” Hawke said, sticking his hand out to Fenris, “Friends? With possible future benefits?”

One side of Fenris’ mouth quirked up, and he took Hawke’s hand, ignoring the electric tingle that ran all the way up to the elbow through his tattoos. “Friends,” he agreed. “We will stick with that for now.”

“Good enough for now!” Hawke exclaimed. “Now let me tell you some truly horrible jokes on the way back to your place, so I can see more of that lovely smile.”

“I don’t need an escort to my home Hawke,” Fenris said around a smile.

“Of course not. You’re very scary, which I love because it keeps the uglies away from me in the bar. But these are really awful… you’ve got to hear them.” Hawke said cheerfully as he threw an arm around the elf. “Here’s my favorite: A man walked into a bar… and said ouch.”

“Hillarious,” Fenris intoned with a roll of his eyes. “Shouldn’t I walk you home instead?” he asked. “Lowtown is much more dangerous.”

“Not really,” Hawke said with a snort. He quirked a thumb at the staff strapped to his back. “It’s just filled with spontaneous target practice.”

Fenris burst into laughter, and Hawke smiled happily as they made their way to Hightown.

“So have you heard the one about the Man who found a Mabari in the bar?”

 

 

[Artwork by lolbatty](http://lolbatty.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that turned out longer than I'd planned. Chapter 2 and this one kind of flowed together, and I had a difficult time figuring out where to cut it up, so I hope it turned out ok. The picture is art I commissioned from lolbatty.tumblr.com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has been part of Hawke's crew for a while now, and agreed to join him in the Deep Roads. They've made it back to the surface, and they're all just glad to be back in the sunshine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... barnacles lolsnort :)

Despite everything, their journey back to Kirkwall was actually quite pleasant once they got out of the Deep Roads. Anders was so happy to see sunlight again that he actually managed to forget about mage freedom for a while and Fenris could almost see why Hawke enjoyed his company. Not that he would admit to that, or the fact that he’d been grateful on several occasions for the man’s timely warnings about darkspawn and flashes of healing energy.

The abomination and Hawke were currently discussing healing theory while Fenris and Varric trailed behind in companionable silence. Listening to them gave him an odd sense of déjà vu. As Danarius’ body guard he had spent a lot of time following behind his master while he discussed how many sacrifices would be needed for a blood ritual with one of his colleagues. It was difficult to not draw parallels, especially since Anders was currently describing in graphic detail how to fix different kinds of blade induced stomach wounds. 

Fenris wrinkled his nose. Time to stop paying attention to that. In an attempt to distract himself from his paranoia about his relationship with Hawke, he turned to Varric. “I thought all dwarves had beards. Where’s yours?”

Varric made a face. “I misplaced it, along with my sense of dwarven pride and my gold-plated noble cast pin.”

“I thought maybe it fell onto your chest,” Fenris deadpanned.

Varric’s eyes widened in shock before he burst into delighted chuckles. “Oh-ho! The broody elf tells a joke!”

Fenris frowned, unconsciously proving Varric’s point. “I don’t brood,” he mumbled.

The dwarf rolled his eyes. “Friend, if your brooding were any more impressive, women would swoon as you passed. They’d have broody babies in your honor.”

Hawke must have been paying some attention to their conversation. “I would too!” he called from ahead of them.

“I hope you mean the swooning bit,” Anders said with a laugh. “There is no healing spell in the world that would allow you to conceive.” After a pause he added, “And have you _seen_ childbirth? It’s terrifying!”

“I could always knock up Isabella,” Hawke said with a laugh.

“She comes to me for herbs to prevent that kind of thing,” Anders replied. “Also for rash creams.” By this time the two mages were laughing so hard they had to lean on each other. “You should avoid fooling around with pirates. They tend to dock in… unsavory places.”

“Well at least I know where to go for anti-barnacle cream,” Hawke managed to say through snorts of laughter.

“Hawke, if I have to treat you for crotch rot, you’ll ruin all of my fantasies.”

Hawke’s face filled with mock horror. “Well we can’t have that!”

Varric shook his head at them with a chuckle, and turned back to Fenris who was glaring at their backs. “What about you? Where’s your beard, elf?”

“Elves don’t grow beards,” Fenris said distractedly.

“Huh,” Varric said slyly. “I thought maybe you’d shaved it off in a fit of broody pique.”

That got Fenris’ attention, and he looked down at the dwarf with a half smile. “So you’re a funny dwarf.”

Varric smiled and patted his crossbow affectionately. “It’s why Bianca loves me.” His smile turned thoughtful. “So what do you plan to do with your share of the loot?”

The elf raised an eyebrow, “I get a share?”

“Of course you do Broody,” Varric said. “You did help keep us alive.”

“But I am only a hireling.” 

“True,” Varric agreed with a nod. “Hawke and I will split the profits with you and Blondie after we’ve taken our cut for the original investment, but I think you deserve more than just a hireling’s wages after you helped keep us alive after Bartrand-“ The dwarf paused and swallowed. “Well, I just think you’ve earned a larger share, anyway.”

“I did not join you for the money,” Fenris said quietly.

Varric pounced on that. “Oh? Why did you then?” he asked with a knowing glance at Hawke.

Fenris also glanced at Hawke who was walking with one arm around Anders’ shoulders, waving his staff around expressively with his other hand, probably telling a dirty joke. Whatever they were talking about was amusing the abomination greatly. He turned back to Varric with a frown. “He helped me with the bounty hunters. I owed it to him to return the favor.”

Varric gave him a skeptical look. “Mm-hm.”

“What else has your over-active imagination come up with, dwarf?” Fenris asked in a near growl.

“You’ve been helping him for months already. I’d think you were even already,” Varric replied. “I’ve also seen the way you watch him when you think no one is looking.”

“Of course I watch him,” the elf defended. “He’s a mage.”

“Really? That’s all?” Varric asked in an innocent tone.

“Of course.” Fenris insisted.

“Hmph.” Varric didn't look convinced. He turned his attention away to navigate around a pothole in the road they had been following back to Kirkwall. 

“You don’t believe me?” Fenris demanded, unable to let the subject drop yet.

“Oh, yes I do,” Varric said quickly. “But there is the fact that you glare daggers through Blondie and Daisy. With Hawke, you look a little… dreamy.”

Fenris stopped in his tracks and glared after the dwarf, who took a few more steps before he noticed the elf was no longer pacing along beside him. Varric turned to look back to him curiously. “I do not,” Fenris growled angrily. 

“Sure, elf,” Varric said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “whatever you say.”

Fenris decided to change the subject before he gave Varric any more fodder for his stories. “I wasn’t expecting a large cut of the profits. I’m not really sure what I should do with it.”

Varric, thankfully, played along. “You could buy that mansion you’ve been squatting in.”

Fenris shook his head. “Maybe. I fear that would draw Danarius straight to me.”

Varric shrugged. “That may not be so bad. Let him come to you, and then take him out on your own terms.”

Fenris thought about it. The idea had merit, but there was one problem. “Who would sell a Hightown estate to an elf?” he asked.

“Hm, good point,” Varric said thoughtfully. “How about I invest your share in bribes to keep anyone else from buying it? Then you could stay for as long as you’d like. Tax free even!”

With a nod, Fenris agreed. That did sound the best course of action for now. And if Danarius didn’t come… well he’d figure out what to do with himself eventually.

“So elf, what do you do in that gigantic house all day?” Varric asked.

Fenris didn’t look at the dwarf when he answered. “Dance of course.”

Varric stumbled and looked at the elf in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded almost solemnly. “I run from room to room, choreographing routines.”

Varric chortled delightedly. “You’re actually joking. Again! Alert the Chantry! They need to put this on the calendar.”

Fenris smiled at his companion, but felt his eyes drawn forward to the mages walking in front of them. Hawke had his head turned and was staring back at him. Their eyes met, and he felt an echo of the electricity that affected his tattoos whenever the other man touched him. His smile widened slightly, and the electric feeling spread through all of his limbs when Hawke grinned back at him. He didn’t notice the knowing look Varric was giving him. “And you thought I was always serious,” he said.

Hawke winked at him, and turned back to pay attention to his conversation with Anders.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver has joined the Templars and Hawke has gone missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so fluffy chapter. One of my favorite things about DAO and DA2 was how dark the story was, sprinkled with jokes. I hope I do it justice. Also, it's nearly bedtime and I had to work today so although I've been planning this part of the story for days, actually typing it up was a bit rushed. I may come back and edit it later.

_Danarius turned from his current sacrifice, and handed the bloody dagger to the mage standing next to him. Fenris couldn’t see the second mage’s face, but he recognized the tall, dark haired human by the way he held himself. As if he was daring the world to challenge him, and was amused at the idea that anyone would actually try. The wide shoulders and muscled arms looked out of place on a Tevinter mage, but this was no pampered magister. With alarm, he watched as Hawke turned to look at him, eyes glowing red with the power of blood magic._

_“No!” Fenris shouted angrily._

_Hawke looked at him curiously. “Didn’t you always believe this day would come, Fenris?”_

_“I had hoped-“_

_Danarius laughed. “Ah my little wolf. Hope is for free men, not slaves.”_

_In the way of dreams, Fenris became aware of bodies on the ground around him, and he suddenly found himself standing in the steamy jungles of Seheron. They were Fog Warriors, proud people who had tried to befriend him and had lost their lives to his ghostly claws. Looking at their faces he realized they were not just the jungle warriors who had taken him in. Varric, Isabela, and Aveline were crumpled around him, and looking closer he even saw Merrill and Anders among the corpses. All of his new friends from Kirkwall were dead._

_He raised his hands to cover his eyes, but recoiled when he realized his hands were covered in gore, past his elbows. “No,” he moaned, this time a whisper._

_A hand on his shoulder brought his gaze up to Hawke’s face, who now stood beside him, wearing Danarius’ robes, and carrying the magister’s favorite staff. “They served their purpose,” he said in a strangely echoing voice which seemed to be Hawke’s deep tones, and Danarius’ oily voice combined. “Do not mourn for them.”_

_“But they are my friends,” Fenris whispered hoarsely._

_“You don’t need them,” Hawke said in that devastating voice. “We have each other, and that should be enough for you.” The mage leaned forward and pressed his lips against Fenris’ slack mouth, sharing the taste of blood with the elf, who was too horrified to let out the scream trapped in his throat._

The sound of a gauntlet-clad fist pounding on his door made Fenris jerk upright in the nest of blankets he used as a bed with a muffled cry. The lyrium in his skin was glowing brightly and he was gasping for breath as if he’d been running. Danarius had expected him to be alert and aware when he awoke, and years on the run had only honed his ability. Pushing the dream to the back of his mind, he tossed the blankets aside and grabbed the sword he kept within reach despite the fact that his own hands were effective weapons. He didn’t take the time to dress, and wearing only his leggings, he left the room at the top of the stairs that he had made his own. 

The pounding stopped and the door opened on its own just as Fenris put his foot on the top stair. The voices that drifted up to him made him grimace in irritation. 

“Isabela, you can’t go breaking in just because he doesn’t answer the door,” Aveline scolded. She followed behind the object of her lecture as they made their way into the main hall. 

“He takes too long to answer,” Isabela said in a tone that was more serious than the elf was used to hearing from her. 

Aveline woudn’t be swayed. “What if he isn’t home?”

Isabela snorted, “He’s always home, at The Hanged Man, or tagging along with Hawke.” Aveline opened her mouth to protest more, but Isabela wasn’t paying attention. “We don’t have time to spare,” she said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like the ship captain she purported to be. “Hawke may be in serious trouble, and we need all the help we can get. If Fenris isn’t home, we’ll just keep searching.”

Fenris had stopped on the top step while he waited for them to navigate the trip wires and traps he had to reset every time Isabella came to vist, but when he heard that last comment, he rushed down to meet them. “Hawke is in trouble?” he demanded, his voice rustier than usual. He hoped they would think it was because they’d woken him up.

Isabela threw an I told you so look at the guard captain, but didn’t stop to rub it in. “Hawke has been taken by Templars!” 

Fenris had the oddest feeling that the ground shifted under his feet, although everything was completely still for a few moments while he absorbed what she said. Hawke in the Gallows? An image of the carefree human behind bars filled his mind’s eye, and despite his belief that the circle was the best place for mages the idea made his heart skip a beat. 

“We don’t know that,” Aveline said with a glare at the pirate.

Shaking his head to clear the disturbing image of Hawke with a Tranquility brand being pressed to his forehead (when had his imagination gotten so wild?), Fenris focused on her, tilting his head back to meet the much taller woman’s eyes. “What is known?” he asked. 

“Leandra came to me this morning. Apparently Hawke has been missing for three days,” Aveline said. 

They had only returned from the Deep Roads four days ago. It did seem strange that after months away from home, Hawke would take off on one of his “adventures” so soon. _Without inviting me along_ , a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind. “That doesn’t mean he was taken by Templars,” he pointed out. 

Aveline closed her eyes, and rubbed her temple, “Carver joined the Templars,” she said in a voice that was half annoyance, and half regret.

Fenris’ jaw sagged in surprise. “What?” 

It was Isabela who answered. “Apparently the little shit decided he was tired of playing second fiddle to Hawke and joined just as you all arrived home.”

“And you think he turned his brother in?” Fenris asked.

“Not necessarily-“ Aveline started to answer, but Isabela didn’t let her finish.

“Why wouldn’t he?” she asked. “It’s no secret they didn’t get along.”

“Has anyone thought to ask Carver if he turned Hawke in?” Fenris asked, interrupting them. 

“Do you think he’d admit it?” Isabela asked.

Aveline nodded shortly. “I tried to speak with him, but apparently the newest recruits are not allowed visitors for the first month. I didn’t want to push things and raise their suspicions if Hawke has not been captured.”

He nodded at her logic. Alternatively, it would be difficult to not expose Hawke as an apostate if they asked any of the Templars if he were in The Gallows. It was a sticky situation. He thought back to his encounters with the youngest Hawke brother. Carver was possessed of a very large chip on his shoulder, but the elf couldn’t see him turning in his own brother. That left them with the task of finding out where the mage had gone. It was completely possible that he was just working on a job and hadn’t decided to ask for help. “So what now?” he asked.

“We’re gathering everyone together at The Hanged Man,” Aveline said. “Then we’ll discuss a plan to find him. We were hoping you would join us.”

Fenris nodded in response, “Of course.”

“Good,” Aveline said. “We’ll see you there.” 

The guard captain turned to leave, but Isabela lingered. Fenris raised a brow at her in question. One corner of her mouth tilted up suggestively and she slowly looked him up and down, reminding him that he was only wearing his leggings. “Were you sleeping Fenris?” she finally asked.

“Um, yes.” Somehow, the look she gave him managed to make him feel even less clothed. “I should, uh, get dressed,” he said. “I’ll meet you at The Hanged Man?”

“I’ll wait and walk with you,” she offered.

Not wanting to waste time arguing, he nodded and returned to his makeshift room. Setting his blade aside, he quickly pulled on a soft black sleeveless shirt, and strapped on his armor. Lifting his sword again, he turned to the door as he swept it around to hang in the sling over his shoulder, and was startled to find Isabela leaning against the doorframe watching him. 

“You’re very lanky, for an elf,” she said with her usual suggestive smile. “I like lanky.”

Fenris swept past her to leave the mansion, and she fell in step beside him. “From what I gather,” he said with a sideways glance at her, “you like a lot of things.”

“Lies and slander,” the pirate said with a defiant toss of her hair. Her sly smile ruined the image. “But when I see something I like, I go after it.”

Fenris considered Isabela seriously for a moment. She was very beautiful with her dark coloring, and vivid expressions. She was not very tall, and even in her boots they were almost eye level. “Do you intend to go after me, then?” he asked curiously.

Isabella licked her upper lip. “Will you take off all that spiky armor you’re wearing?”

Fenris had an unpleasant flash of memory about his time as a slave, but willfully pushed it to the back of his mind. This was Isabela, and he was determined not to let her know he was uncomfortable. “It’s been known to happen,” he said casually.

She let out a snort, “Then forget it.”

He opened the mansion’s front door, allowing her to proceed before him. “I suggest keeping your distance,” he said with a crooked half-smile to take the sting out of his rejection.

“Now you’re just making it challenging,” she huffed. They walked in companionable silence, ignoring the offended looks the two of them drew from the Hightown nobles. It was a few minutes before she spoke again, in a small surprisingly worried voice. “I hope Hawke is ok,” she said.

Without looking at her, Fenris brushed his fingers against hers, careful not to cut her with the spiked gauntlets. “Me too,” he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search begins.

When Fenris and Isabella reached The Hanged Man, everyone else was already gathered. Nothing productive appeared to be happening though. They walked in during the middle of an argument.

“If they have him, we need to get him out!” Anders cried stormily. His eyes had a slightly blue tinge. He appeared to be mostly in control, but Fenris still kept a wary eye on him. 

“We don’t know that he’s been captured by Templars, Blondie,” Varric, ever the peace keeper, said in a soothing voice.

“Oh, he comes home to find his brother has joined the Templars, and the next day he’s missing?” the abomination asked. “You don’t think that timing is a little suspicious?”

Aveline cut in. “Of course we know it’s a possibility Anders, but if that were the case, why haven’t you also been captured?” she pointed out reasonably.

“I know they fought, but I don’t think Carver would do such a thing,” Merrill added. 

“You’re just defending him because you’re sweet on him,” Anders accused. 

Merrill blushed, but stood her ground. “I’ve gotten to know him, that’s all.”

When Anders opened his mouth to argue again, Fenris decided he’d heard enough. “We’re wasting time,” he rasped. “I suggest we create a plan of action instead of bickering like children.” This last was said with a glare at the abomination. Anders snapped his mouth shut and glared back at the elf, but he crossed his arms and remained silent. 

“Yes,” Aveline said into the silence. “I suggest we split up and start questioning people.”

“I’ve got my contacts working on it,” Varric said. 

“And I’ve got the guards on alert,” the guard captain added. “Someone should try the gallows again, and it should probably be me.” She gave a disapproving glance at Anders when he grumbled. “I’ll see if I can speak with Cullen. He knows Hawke, and it will be easier to question him without giving away too much information.”

“I’ll go with you,” Varric added. 

Aveline nodded acceptance. “Anders, please contact Lirene and see if any of the refugees know anything. Merrill I want you to ask around the alienage. Most of them are employed as servants, and may have heard gossip.” Both mages nodded and turned to carry out their tasks.

“Fenris, would you speak to Leandra and see if there is anything else she can tell you?” Aveline asked. When he nodded she turned to leave, Varric close behind her.

“Hey, what about me?” Isabela asked when she realized Aveline was through issuing orders. 

The guard captain paused and turned to look at Isabela in mild surprise. “What about you?” she asked in return.

“Don’t I get to help?” the pirate demanded.

“Do what you like,” Aveline said dismissively. “I believe we have everything covered.” She turned on her heel and walked out. 

“Oooh that woman,” Isabela grumbled.

Varric laughed. “Relax Rivaini. Tag along with Fenris for now. You can always split up if you need to.”

“I can do that,” Isabela said with a small salute at the dwarf. He waved back, and then quickly moved to catch up with Aveline. “Well,” she said to Fenris, “Let’s go see Hawke’s mother.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “This should be interesting.”

“Why?” He asked curiously.

“I try to avoid meeting the parents of friends I’ve slept with. It gives them the wrong idea.” Isabella said with a laugh.

Fenris missed a step, and turned to stare at her. “You’ve slept with Hawke?” he asked stupidly. Of course she had. This was Isabela he was speaking with.

She smirked at him. “Jealous?” she teased.

“What? Of course not! He- I-“ He took a deep breath and tried again. “I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Mm-hm,” she said with a sly smile, and he was reminded of his conversation with Varric a few days ago. 

“What are you implying?” he demanded.

Isabela turned to him with an overly innocent look. “Nothing,” she declared. 

“Alright,” he said suspiciously. He focused on the short walk to Hawke’s home, hoping the subject would drop.

“It’s just…”

“What?” He growled when she didn’t continue.

“You don’t seem so gloomy when he’s around. I figured maybe you liked him.” She said in a dismissive tone.

His first reaction was to hotly deny it, but when he opened his mouth the words wouldn’t come out. A picture of Hawke’s grinning face filled his mind, and even without the man’s physical presence he wanted to smile in response. It was true, the mage made him nervous when he displayed his power, but he’d known Hawke for more than a year now, and he felt comfortable letting his guard down around him. He was still vigilant around Anders and Merrill, but he even relaxed around them when Hawke was present. 

“He’s a mage,” he said. He ignored Isabela’s dismissive snort. “But I think he is a good man,” he added reluctantly. 

“Yes, disgusting, isn’t it?”

Fenris felt the corner of his mouth lift at her disgruntlement. “I don’t think so,” he said.

They walked up the steps to reach the door to Hawke’s home, and Isabela reached out to knock on the rickety wood. “Of course not,” she said with a wink. “Because you _like_ him.”

He was saved from having to respond when the door opened. Leandra Hawke stood in the doorway, her brow furrowed in worry over blue-grey eyes. He had only met her once before, shortly after meeting Hawke. He obviously took after his father, because she had the soft round features common to Kirkwall nobility, but he could see her son in her eyes. Her’s were a pale grey-blue, and Hawke’s were the color of rich whiskey, but when she smiled at them hopefully he could see how their eyes had the same exotic shape, and smile lines at the corners. 

“Mistress Hawke,” Fenris began.

“Fenris! It’s so good to see you again,” Leandra said. She turned to the rogue at his side with a smile, “And you must be Isabela. Gabriel has spoken of you.”

Isabela and Fenris exchanged surprised looks. “Um, he did?” the pirate asked hesitantly.

Leandra chuckled, “Don’t worry dear. I remember what it was like to be young and adventurous.”

Fenris felt the corners of his lips tilt up in the beginnings of a smile at Isabela’s dubious expression. He remembered Hawke telling him that she’d run away with his apostate father. Somehow he doubted that he had shared the juicier details of Isabela’s “adventures” though. She was his mother, after all. 

She invited them inside and insisted on making them tea. Fenris fidgeted at the delay, but her calm observance of etiquette actually eased some of his anxiety about Hawke’s disappearance. Leandra had the most reason to be worried, but while she seemed a little tense, he reasoned that if she were truly afraid for her son, she would express it.

She confirmed his thoughts, when she finally joined them at the rickety table and poured their tea. “I’m afraid I may have given Aveline reason to worry more than I intended,” she said with a frown.

Fenris picked up the chipped cup, but didn’t drink. “What do you mean?”

Leandra rolled her eyes. “Apparently, Gabriel told Gamlen he’d be gone for a few days, but my dear brother was on his way out for the evening and forgot to pass on the message. I am still a little shaken over Carver’s decision to join the Templar order and I fear I overreacted to Gabriel being gone on business.”

“Aveline said you came to her this morning,” Isabela said in confusion. “It’s only been a few hours. When did you hear from Gamlen?”

“He stumbled in about an hour ago smelling of liquor and rose oil,” Leandra said, wrinkling her nose. “Apparently he’s been out… celebrating. One of his ‘investments’ paid off, and it’s not unusual for him to spend a few days away when he has an extra jingle to his purse.”

Rose oil and liquor? Gamlen must have been “celebrating” at The Blooming Rose. Fenris wondered where he’d gotten the money to spend three days at the expensive brothel. It wasn’t like the man had a steady job.

“Is he home, then?” Isabella asked.

“Yes,” Leandra replied. She waved a hand towards a door at the back of the small room they occupied. “He’s sleeping though. He told me I worry too much, and shut the door.” She turned to glare at the offending portal, “He doesn’t think anything is wrong.”

“I hate to ask this,” Isabella said hesitantly, “But do you think Carver may have-“

“No!” Leandra said in such a distressed tone that Isabella and Fenris both cringed. “He wouldn’t! He understands the importance of family, and he loves his brother. He just...” she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

Isabella held up her hands, “It’s alright,” she said quickly. “You don’t need to explain. We’re just worried about him.”

“Thank you dear,” Leandra said, and delicately wiped at her eyes before the tears could spill over. “I’m glad my Gabriel has made such good friends.”

Fenris felt warmth build in his chest at the thought of Hawke’s mother acknowledging him that way, but his spirits immediately fell again when he remembered that the mage was missing. He doubted now that Hawke had been taken by Templars, but the fact remained that no one knew where he was, which was unusual because he always invited one or more of his friends along wherever he went. 

“May we speak with Gamlen?” Fenris asked.

Leandra let out an unladylike snort. “If you can wake him, you may. I’ve tried pounding on his door, but the only reaction I get is snoring. And he’s locked it.”

“Oh that shouldn’t be a problem,” Isabela said with a grin. She stood, and walked toward the door Leandra had pointed out earlier. Slipping her fingers into her ample cleavage, she pulled out her lock picks and made short work of the cheap lock. Easing the door open, she slipped into the room.

Fenris had risen to follow Isabella, but stopped next to the table where Leandra still sat while he waited for her to work open the lock. He looked down to see her reaction and was amused to see both her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well,” she breathed. “That’s a talented young woman.”

He chuckled, and laid a hand on her shoulder when she smiled up at him. “You don’t know the half of it.” He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then moved to follow the pirate into Gamlen’s cramped room.

Isabela, had crawled onto the narrow cot with Gamlen and draped herself over him. She had a dagger out and was tapping his cheek with it. “Wakey, wakey,” she cooed. 

Gamlen smiled lazily and slowly opened his eyes, apparently forgetting he was in his own bed, and not sleeping with a whore. Well, not a professional, anyway Fenris thought with amusement. 

Gamlen tilted his head to look at Isabela, and frowned in confusion. “What-?”

“Ah ah,” Isabela said throatily. “My questions first, handsome.”

Fenris rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spend all day obsessively reading my work over and over and over and over and- well you get the idea. Drives me crazy when I post it and then catch an error. So I'll probably take a little more time between updates :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela has a serious side, and a hot ass :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd do Isabela IRL, totally. The first time I tried to romance Fenris I kept failing because I'd choose the options to get with the naughty pirate girl. It took me forever to realize that was keeping me from my goals. It's reeeeally hard not to flirt with her in Act 2! Especially if you're trying to get her friendship meter to 50%.

“Well that was easy,” Isabela huffed as the door closed behind them.

Fenris lifted an eyebrow at her as they walked down the stairs from Gamlen’s house. “You sound disappointed,” he observed.

“Of course I am,” she said with a sour expression. “It’s much more fun when they don’t cooperate.” 

Fenris chuckled. He would never forget the expression on Gamlen’s face when she’d pressed her dagger against his cheek. He’d made one token protest, but had quickly shared everything he knew when she pressed hard enough to draw a bead of blood on the tip of her blade. 

Hawke had been reading the correspondence left for him while he was in the Deep Roads. Whatever had been in the messages had apparently gotten him pretty excited. He’d told his uncle he had to take care of some business, and he may be gone for a few days working on a project. He’d left quickly, without another word. Gamlen hadn’t seen anything strange about it since Hawke was always running off on business. He didn’t know why Leandra was worried. Apparently, he’d missed hearing that Carver had joined the Templars.

After talking to Gamlen, they’d asked Leandra if they could see Hawke’s mail. She’d agreed reluctantly, not wanting to invade his privacy, but understanding that it was important. They’d found mostly personal letters, including an amusing one from a girl named Peaches meant for Carver which hinted at why he wasn’t his older brother’s biggest fan. Only two letters looked like they had anything to do with business. There was a report from Hubert about the state of the mine and another from Seneschal Bran. Both looked like promising leads.

They stopped in The Hanged Man and left a message for the others, and headed to Hightown. They spoke with Hubert first. From him they learned that Hawke had indeed stopped to see him to pick up his monthly cut from the mine, but had then headed toward the keep for further business.

“Ugh, I don’t know why Hawke deals with him,” Isabela complained as they walked away from the slimy mine owner. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Hawke associates with many questionable people,” Fenris said without looking at her.

Isabela stopped and glared at him. “You’re not referring to me are you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Why would I be?” he asked, looking at her with what he hoped was an innocent expression. 

“I’m a thief, a liar, and a cheat,” she said grimly.

“And a pirate,” he added for her, finally unable to prevent the twitch of his lips.

Isabela’s suspicious look melted into one of delighted surprise. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” she exclaimed.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. Thinking of Anders and Merrill he added, “Anyway, you may be all of those things, but at least you aren’t another mage.”

Isabela frowned at him. “Hawke is a mage.”

Fenris sighed. So much for the light mood he’d managed to develop once they found a lead on Hawke. “I try not to think about it,” he said.

“He’s not like your magister,” Isabela pointed out.

Fenris came to a halt and slashed a gauntleted hand through the air between them. “Danarius is not my magister! He-“ Fenris stopped, and took a deep breath to calm himself. “I don’t want to discuss this with you.” He turned and stalked towards the keep.

Isabela scrambled to keep up with him, but didn’t let the subject drop yet. “You need to think about it though,” she insisted.

“Why?” he growled without stopping.

Isabela grabbed his arm to stop him, and her fingers brushed against his tattoos. They flared up under her touch, and she pulled away quickly but not before he caught her hand in a crushing grip. To her credit she didn’t flinch in the face of his anger. 

“Glow at me if it makes you feel better,” she gritted out between her teeth. “But Hawke really likes you. If you don’t want him, you need to let him know before you break his heart.”

“What do you care for his heart?” Fenris demanded, the memory of her earlier confession causing his already irrational anger to increase.

“He’s… a good friend,” she said haltingly. “And so are you.”

The gentle reminder of their budding friendship brought things into focus for him. They were standing on the steps leading to the keep. Guards were eyeing them, and suspiciously grasping their weapons. He took a few deep breaths and forced his anger down. The painful glow of his tattoos faded, and he loosened his hold on her hand. “I apologize,” he said ruefully when she flexed it gingerly. 

“Accepted,” she said shortly. “Just think about it, alright?” She turned away from him, and led the way up the rest of the stairs. She was obviously put out with him, and with good reason. He’d overreacted.

Fenris sighed and hung his head for a moment before he moved to catch up with her. He did think about it, quite often. Even his dreams were filled with his worries… and his longings. The dream from this morning had been terrifying, but other dreams were much more pleasant, and confusing. Quite often he’d awaken stiff with need after an erotic dream in the middle of the night, and he’d have to take care of himself before he could go back to sleep. 

Could he allow himself to care for Hawke? It seemed he was well on his way already. Yet he was afraid. He was not ready to open himself to heartache, and possible betrayal. There was also the dark thought that Hawke deserved better than a physically and emotionally scarred ex-slave. 

Letting his worries go for now, he followed Isabela’s lead as she walked straight up to Bran’s office. Nobles squawked in annoyance until they caught sight of him a step behind her. Sometimes he was grateful for his intimidating appearance. Bran still kept them waiting an hour before they’d see him, but what he had to say was worth it.

Hawke had saved enough money before his trip to the Deep Roads to start the process of regaining possession of the Amell estate. Bran had sent him the request for a meeting so Hawke could sign the final paperwork making the estate his. 

“His mother is going to be thrilled,” Isabela said happily as they left the Seneschal’s office. She seemed to have shrugged off their argument, for which he was appreciative. 

“Do you think he’s at the estate?” he asked.

“Probably,” she replied. “Should we just go find him, or should we go find the others first?”

“Would you mind if I went to see him alone first?” Fenris asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Isabela looked at him sideways, but didn’t take the opportunity to comment. “Alright, I’ll head to the Hanged Man,” she agreed. “What if he’s not there?”

“I’ll send a messenger if I find him,” he offered. “If he’s not there, I’ll come myself.”

She nodded. “That sounds like a plan.”

They had reached the bottom of the steps. She stopped him with a light touch, this time careful not to touch his skin. “No hard feelings?” she asked.

One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Of course,” he agreed.

“Good!” she said cheerfully. “If you and Hawke do anything dirty while I’m not there, I expect details.”

“I’m not sure there’s enough wine in Kirkwall to get me to tell you my dirty secrets,” he quipped in return.

“You know I love a challenge,” she said with a wink. She gave him a salute and swaggered away towards the stairs which would take her to Lowtown.

Fenris felt his smile widen, and he shook his head at her retreating back. He tilted his head slightly and watched the sway of her backside as well. He could understand why it always caught Hawke’s attention. He’d accused the mage of having questionable aquaintances, but in truth the statement described him as well. Freedom had brought him to a strange place in his life, but so far it had been worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

When Fenris arrived at the Amell estate he thought about knocking, but hesitated. Hawke may own the building now, but the last inhabitants had been slavers. There was still a chance that he wouldn’t find the mage here, so he hefted his sword out of its holster, and opened the door cautiously. Silently he padded through the entry, and into the main hall. Dust covered everything, and even floated eerily through the few rays of late afternoon sunlight that slipped through the dirty windows on the second floor. He looked down to see if there were any footprints in the dust and was surprised to find that the floor had been swept clean recently. He could see cleaning implements stacked in the corner under the stairs, ready for more use.

The door to the left was slightly ajar, and his sensitive ears picked up the crackle of flames. Still careful of what he may find, he slipped closer and peered around the edge into the room beyond. The books lining the far wall hinted that the room was the library, and he looked at them wistfully for a few seconds before he gently nudged the door open further with his shoulder. It slid open silently on well oiled hinges to reveal Hawke sitting on the floor in front of the fire, using his mabari Spark as a pillow. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief and slid his sword back into its holster. 

The sound of metal sliding into leather brought Hawke and Spark’s attention to him. The dog jerked up to his feet, spilling Hawke onto the floor. With a happy bark he bounded forward and danced around the elf as he walked further into the room. Fenris removed his gauntlets, and hung them from a hook on his belt so he could reach out and scratch the mabari behind his ears. 

Hawke leaned on one elbow on the floor, and looked at Fenris in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I think it should be obvious,” Fenris replied. He smiled down at Spark fondly. “Would you do me a favor?” he asked the dog who yipped encouragingly. “Run down to The Hanged Man, and let them know Hawke is all right. They’ve been worried.” 

Spark barked loudly in agreement, and bounded past him to leave the house. Fenris only wondered briefly if the dog would be able to let himself out the front door, but then smiled when he heard the portal open a moment later. Still looking over his shoulder he said “A fascinating breed. Such intelligence and strength.” He turned back to Hawke. “Do you ever wonder what he thinks about?”

Hawke pushed himself up to sit cross legged still on the floor. He picked up the book he’d dropped when Spark knocked him over and flipped through it, looking for the page he’d been on. “He still thinks about dog things,” he replied. “Just with more clarity.”

Fenris stepped forward a few steps. “Are you aware the breed originated in Tevinter?” he asked. “The magisters bred them. It’s said the mabari defected during the Imperium’s invasion of Ferelden.” He lifted the strap of his sword holster off his shoulder and set the weapon against the fireplace mantle, then moved to sit on the floor near Hawke. 

“Do you think it’s true?” Hawke asked curiously.

Fenris shrugged. “Merely a tale, but I rather like the idea they found the barbarians more… palatable than the mages.” He paused and smiled at Hawke teasingly. “Let’s hope your hound doesn’t take after his ancestors too strongly, hm?”

To his consternation, Hawke’s face fell, and he turned away. The mage took a deep shaky breath, and Fenris realized his error. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice raspier because he was upset with himself for his blunder. “I heard about your brother.”

Hawke sighed again and looked back at Fenris with a smile that was obviously forced. “I’m sure he’ll look amazing in a skirt.” After a moment, his smile turned genuine. “The uniform is ridiculous. How in the Void do they manage to keep from getting their swords tangled up in all that loose chainmail?”

Fenris grunted, half laugh, half acknowledgement. 

Hawke sighed, and idly flipped the pages of the book in his lap, reading words that were just meaningless symbols to the elf. “Did my mother send you after me?”

“She did,” Fenris replied, “although I’m afraid we all may have overreacted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gamlen never passed your message on to your mother. She had no idea where you were, so she asked Aveline for help. By the time I became involved your pet abomination was convinced we’d have to break you out of the Gallows,” Fenris explained. 

Hawke gave him a glare for the way Fenris referred to Anders, but then his expression melted into one of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just needed some time to myself for a while.”

Fenris lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

Hawke’s expression turned sheepish. “To pout mostly,” he looked back down at the book. “I just… needed time to cope with Carver’s decision.”

“Were you afraid he’d turn you in?” Fenris asked.

The mage shook his head. “The thought crossed my mind for a few minutes when I first saw him in his shiny new armor. I asked him if he realized he was related to an apostate.” Hawke gave a bitter laugh. “He accused me of being selfish and thinking only of myself. And he was right. It didn’t even occur to me that he could be in danger until Mother pointed it out.”

“I find it strange that he would pick that path with so many mages in his family,” Fenris said.

“Did I tell you he’s named after the Templar who helped our father escape the circle?” At the elf’s look of surprise, Hawke nodded. “I think sometimes he felt left out, being the only one without magic besides mother.”

“So you think this was his way of fitting in?”

Hawke nodded. “He’s arsed it up, but I think he means well.” When the mage looked up he was smiling more normally. “I hope it turns out to be what he wanted.”

Fenris was surprised at the acceptance in Hawke’s voice. He tried to imagine if he had family how he would feel if one of them were a mage, but he failed because the wall in his mind didn’t allow him to remember how it felt to have a sibling… if he even had a family. He could be an orphan for all he knew. 

Feeling uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts took, Fenris decided to change the subject. He looked around. The library looked to be mostly free of the filth the rest of the house had accumulated. “What have you been doing here?” he asked. “Besides pouting,” he added with a wry smile so the mage would know he was teasing. 

Hawke’s eyes lit up and he also looked around. “Cleaning! I ran out of funds paying the final bribes to get this place so I couldn’t afford to hire workers. Also, I didn’t want my mother to find the corpses we left behind when we cleared out the slavers.”

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Fenris asked. “You have friends. You didn’t have to do this alone.”

Hawke swung around to look at Fenris. “Merrill and Anders would help, but can you see the rest of them scrubbing windows and polishing floors?”

An image of Hawk’s ragtag group of friends in aprons with feather dusters and mops filled Fenris’ mind, and he chuckled. “Isabela would probably show up in _just_ the apron,” he commented.

Hawke barked a surprised laugh at the elf’s joke. “Then I’ll definitely have to ask her.”

Fenris’ smile slipped, but he forced it back before Hawke noticed. 

“Oh hey,” Hawke said, “I have something for you.” He jumped to his feet and ran up the stairs to the upper level of the library. He bounded back down with a book in his hands which he happily presented to the elf once he’d seated himself on the floor again, right next to him.

Fenris looked down at it in consternation. “It is… a book.”

“I see your eyesight is working fine,” Hawke teased. He placed one hand on the floor behind Fenris’ back and leaned close to touch the markings on the cover with his other hand. “It’s by Shartan. The elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him right?”

Fenris ran his hands over the black leather cover. “A little,” he said. “It’s just… slaves are not permitted to read.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I… never learned.”

“It’s not too late to learn,” Hawke said quietly, his face close enough that Fenris would only have to lean forward a few inches to…

Fenris looked up and met Hawke’s gaze. This close he could see the firelight reflecting off gold flecks in his whiskey eyes. The mage was smiling at him with open encouragement. “Isn’t it?” he rasped softly. “Sometimes I wonder.” When Hawke’s smile wilted slightly he dropped his eyes to the book again, and wondered if it was too late for many things. He enjoyed the affection in Hawke’s gaze, but he couldn’t push away his wariness either. 

Shaking his head in irritation at himself he met Hawke’s eyes again. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” he said. “I do appreciate the thought. I’ve always wanted to learn more of Shartan. Perhaps this is my chance.” _Perhaps he would give Hawke a chance as well_.

Hawke’s smile widened, and then his eyes dropped to Fenris’ mouth which had quirked up in a shy smile. His lids dropped a little and suddenly the elf felt overly warm, and struggled to breath. He didn’t move as Hawke leaned forward slowly and he wondered if the mage saw him as a skittish animal that might bolt at a sudden move. _He wouldn’t be wrong_ , a traitorous voice whispered in his mind. 

Just as the mage’s lips brushed his own, the front door of the mansion was thrown open. “Hellooooo!” Isabela called from the entryway, punctuated by a loud bark from Hawke’s mabari. 

They jerked away from each other, Hawke with some very inventive cursing that made the elf raise a surprised eyebrow. The mage just winked at him, and got up to greet his guests. From the main hall Fenris could hear that all of Hawke’s friends had arrived, everyone asking him questions all at once.

Fenris slowly got to his feet, and made his way to the library door. Just before he walked out to join them he paused and touched his fingers to bottom lip. The tingle in the tattoo under his mouth faded slowly. He missed the pleasant sensation already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly chopped off the tip of my finger making dinner! Ok, it's not that bad, but typing with my pointer finger wrapped in a band-aid was difficult. I made it work though... I'm having too much fun with this :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Sundermount, and a revelation.

That was the last time Fenris saw Hawke alone for a long time. He was either working random jobs to earn money until the things they’d brought back from the Deep Roads sold, or getting his estate back in living condition. The basements were filled with temporary prisons and corpses. He refused to let his mother move in until that was all cleared out. 

This wasn’t to say that he didn’t see Hawke. Quite often the mage would show up at Fenris’ door requesting his help, but always with someone else in tow. Anders and Merrill were both most willing to help with the restoration project, and the elf found himself surrounded by mages more often than he’d like. He could have said no of course, but he had learned quickly that when Hawke turned on the charm he was hard pressed to deny his requests. 

That’s how he found himself traveling to Sundermount with them. Fenris was irritated with his inability to say no to the mage, especially when he learned the reason for the trip was for the blood mage to further her quest to restore a blighted magic mirror. 

It was several days trip to the elven campground, and they had stopped for the night. He sat with his back against Spark while he cared for his sword, and Merrill prepared dinner nearby. Hawke and Anders were sitting further away from the campfire, facing each other. The abomination was teaching Hawke something, but they were far enough away that the sounds of the fire crackling and Merrill’s cheerful humming made it so he couldn’t hear their mumbled words. Whatever it was had Hawke scrunching his face up in fierce concentration while Anders smiled in amusement at the other mage’s difficulties. 

“Look at them,” Merrill said fondly. “Like two peas in a pod, they are.” She was slowly stirring the contents of a pot so it wouldn’t burn as she watched the other two mages, so she missed the glare Fenris turned on her.

“How so?” he demanded.

Merrill didn’t look at him when she answered. “Every mage has slightly different talents. Apparently Hawke has shown a talent for healing, and Anders is excited to have someone to teach his skills to. It’s very difficult to learn you know.”

Actually he didn’t know. Anders made it look effortless. 

“Hawke is terribly curious. He’s even asked me to teach him a few things,” Merrill commented. 

“What?” Fenris demanded, feeling an aching in his flesh as his tattoos lit up at the thought of Hawke learning blood magic.

Merrill looked over at him in surprise. “I just taught him a few entropy spells,” she said vaguely. “Fenris, you’re glowing.”

He took a few deep breaths to calm down, and felt the glow fade. “Yes,” he said sarcastically. “I noticed.”

“Your tattoos are very lovely,” Merrill said, oblivious to Fenris’ anger. “Like very elaborate Vallaslin. Although I’ve never seen any Dalish with so many.”

“And they are not made of lyrium,” Fenris growled. “Or carved into your flesh against your will in a ritual so painful it wiped away all memory except for the agony of receiving them.”

“I’m… so sorry,” Merrill murmured. 

“I do not need your pity,” he said angrily. 

Eyes sad, Merrill looked away, but not before Fenris noticed the sheen of tears. He sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He resisted the urge to apologize. He did not want to be her friend. 

After a few moments, she broke the silence. “Do they still hurt?” she murmured.

With his hand still over his tired eyes, he answered. “You don’t want to know.”

“What are you two talking about?” Anders asked. He and Hawke had apparently finished the lesson, and were walking closer to the fire. Both elves answered at the same time.

“Nothing,” Fenris grumbled.

“I think Fenris’ tattoos still hurt him. Do you think you could heal him?” Merrill asked hopefully. 

Fenris dropped his hand and glared at Anders, “Don’t touch me if you value your existence.”

Anders held up his hands in a gesture of peace, but Hawke stepped forward with a concerned look. “Is that true Fenris? Do they still hurt?”

The elf huffed in irritation, but answered anyway. “Yes, but only when they’re active.” All three mages gave him a horrified look, and he turned to stare at the fire. 

“So every time you get all glowy they hurt you?” Merrill squeaked.

Fenris nodded silently. A bowl of stew appeared before him, and he looked up at Merrill in surprise. He took the bowl with a nod of thanks. 

The mages seemed to know that he didn’t want to discuss the issue anymore, and the talk turned to speculation about what was going on back in Kirkwall while they were gone. Fenris ate his stew slowly, and did not participate in the conversation. He looked up, and met Hawke’s speculative look across the fire. The light reflecting in his whiskey eyes made them glow, and the elf was reminded unpleasantly of the dreams he’d had where Hawke had turned to blood magic. 

When dinner was finished and cleaned up everyone curled up in their bedrolls except for Fenris who had first watch. Spark followed him to where he kept lookout and fell asleep curled up at his back. He was grateful for the mabari’s warmth. 

Hours passed and it was nearly time for his turn at watch to end when Fenris heard the snapping of a twig nearby. Spark only lifted his head to look in the direction of the sound, then put his head back down on his paws, so the elf wasn’t surprised to find it was Hawke walking toward him from the darkness. He scooted over, to give the mage room to sit back against the mabari.

Hawke hesitated, but finally sat down, careful not to touch Fenris. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice low so he wouldn’t disturb the others. 

“Tell you what?” Fenris asked just as quietly.

“I’ve noticed that your tattoos lit up when I’ve touched you.” 

Fenris lowered his head and stared at the top of his bare foot. “Yes, they did,” he acknowledged.

“So it’s painful to be touched?” Hawke asked, clearly concerned.

Fenris wondered how much he should tell the mage. How could he tell him that he could feel the electricity Hawke controlled so effortlessly run through his tattoos at the slightest touch? It wasn’t pain, but it was intense. “It depends on who is touching me,” he said finally.

Hawke tilted his head, and Fenris realized Merrill was right about the mage’s insatiable curiosity. “How does that work?” he asked.

“I am not sure how to explain,” Fenris said hesitantly.

“Try me.”

Fenris sighed and thought for a moment. Hawke waited patiently for him, seemingly not afraid that he would just decide not to answer. It was what made him decide to be truthful. “It is like I can feel a person’s… aura,” he said. “I do not let many people touch me because of it. Most of the time it is not pleasant.”

“Can you describe what it feels like?” Hawke asked, fascinated.

Fenris hesitated. Other than Hawke and Isabella, the last people to have touched him were Danarius, and other magisters. He didn’t really want to talk about how disgusting they made him feel, so he decided to just talk about his friends. “It has been years since anyone has touched me,” he said. “But Isabella touched my arm a while ago. She felt like the wind, strong and quick to change direction.”

Hawke chuckled, “That sounds like her.” Growing serious Hawke’s whiskey eyes met Fenris’ mossy green. Slowly he reached out and placed the pad of his thumb on the elf’s bottom lip. Encouraged that Fenris didn’t move away immediately, he slipped it down to caress a fork of the silvery lines under his mouth. “What about me?” 

Fenris shivered at the husky question. “Hawke, I-“

“Gabe. Please, call me Gabe.”

With a slight nod, Fenris acknowledged the request. He was distracted by the tingling in his chin. “Gabe,” he said simply, no longer able to remember the question.

Hawke slowly ran his fingers down Fenris’ chin and over the silvery lines on his throat. The electric feeling intensified, but it was a pleasant humming under his skin.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Hawke whispered, close to his mouth.

Fenris gasped at the feel of the mage’s breath against his lips. “Electricity,” he whispered.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not yet,” Fenris answered truthfully.

The tension of the moment was broken when Spark decided to get up and walk away. Since they had both been leaning against him heavily they were dumped onto the ground. The dog gave them a disgusted snort and disappeared in the direction of the sleeping mages. 

Hawke laughed. “He’s right, this really isn’t the place for this kind of thing.” He rubbed his face with both hands, and turned his head to look at Fenris. “Make help me, I nearly jumped your bones right in front of my mabari. Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Fenris felt his own lips pull up in an amused smile. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position and looked down at the still prone mage. “I don’t see why not,” he said in amusement. “For some reason he likes you. Maybe mabaris are not as smart as people give them credit for.”

“Do you like me, Fenris?” Hawke asked with his customary mischievous smile. 

“I find you somewhat tolerable,” Fenris said dryly, making the other man chuckle in delight at the jab. 

Knowing the moment was broken, and not sure how to get it back, Fenris decided to retreat. He stood and looked down at Hawke. “If you’re next on watch, I’ll send him back to keep you warm,” he offered.

“Thank you,” Hawke said, and stacked both hands behind his head. He smiled warmly at the elf looming over him. “Good night Fenris.”

Fenris returned the smile. “Good night…. Gabe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the boys got interrupted again. I promise I'm working on getting to the "Fun Bits" of the story though!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unpleasant experience leads to a small understanding between Fenris and Anders.

The Varterral screeched as flickers of electricity spread all over its spindly body, making it seize up painfully. Fenris watched carefully for Hawke’s spell to fade. Once the flickering lights disappeared, he leapt forward and thrust his sword deeply into the creature’s body. He twisted viciously, and it collapsed nearly on top of him. Vines grew up out of the ground and wrapped around its limbs, pulling it apart. Pulling his blade free with a hefty jerk, he leapt back as the vines caught flame. Stepping back further he tossed a glare at Anders for casting the fire so close to him. 

The cave filled with an unnatural stench as the creature’s body was consumed by the mage’s fire. “Sorry about that Fenris,” Anders said, sounding out of breath and slightly amused. “I hope I didn’t singe you too badly.”

Ignoring the Varterral’s remains, Merrill ran past the men toward Pol’s crumpled body. Her sobs could be heard over the crackle of flame. Fenris heard her begging Anders to heal the dead elf, but he wasn’t paying very much attention. He was covered with cuts and he was fairly sure the last blow he’d received from the creature when he didn’t phase in time had cracked a rib. He could feel a grinding when he tried to take a deep breath. His lungs were desperate for air, but he could only weeze shallowly. Slowly he dropped to his knees, one hand holding the pommel of his sword which was stabbed tip first into the ground, the other hand wrapped gingerly around his ribs. Now that the danger was over, pain spread through his body. 

Hawke was the first to notice that something was wrong. “Fenris?” He turned away from where Merrill was still crouched over Pol’s body. When the elf didn’t respond, he strode quickly to his side, and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, worry evident in his tone and expression. He reached out to touch Fenris, but hesitated just before making contact with his skin. 

Unable to go without oxygen anymore Fenris tried to take a deep breath. It was a mistake. He felt a pop and a sharp stabbing sensation, and the air he’d pulled in was pushed out again in a harsh cough. He felt liquid fill his chest and coughed again, this time bringing up blood. He looked up at Hawke through the white locks of his own hair. “Healing would be welcome,” he managed to rasp before another cough racked his chest with pain.

“Maker help us,” Hawke groaned. No longer hesitant to touch him, the mage dropped his staff and reached for Fenris with both hands, helping him into a more comfortable position. Green light spread over his hands as he started healing all the minor cuts and bruises the elf had received during the battle, making his tattoos glow dimly and tingle. With deft fingers, he unbuckled Fenris’ chest plate and removed his armor.

Fenris would have enjoyed the sensation of the human’s hands sliding over his body under different circumstances. 

“Anders, help me please,” Hawke said desperately. “He’s coughing up blood, and I can’t…” he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he met Fenris’ eyes with an apologetic look. “I can’t heal something I can’t see,” he said in defeat.

Anders left Merrill’s side, and knelt down on Fenris’ other side. “He must have punctured a lung with a broken rib,” he said. Remembering his aversion to being touched, the mage’s worried eyes came up to meet the elf’s angry green gaze. “I will need to touch you. I can’t heal something like this otherwise. Do I have your permission?”

Revulsion filled Fenris at the idea of the abomination touching him, but his self preservation overrode his dislike. Unable to speak he nodded. 

Anders pulled a small knife from within the folds of his coat, and sliced the elf’s shirt open. Merrill hovered nearby with Spark leaning heavily against her side. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying, but all her concern was focused on Fenris. The idea that he was surrounded by three mages who wanted his pain to go away was an odd one.

When the edges of his ruined shirt was pulled open, they gasped collectively. Fenris felt a vague sense of shame as they all stared down at the elaborate markings covering the skin of his torso. 

Anders shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Justice is distracted by the music from the lyrium in your skin.”

Fenris tried to growl, but only coughed up more blood.

“Will this be a problem?” Hawke asked sharply. 

“No… no we are focused now,” Anders said. “Justice doesn’t want him to suffer either. It was just a momentary shock.” He reached out and let his hands hover a breath away from the skin of Fenris’ chest. “Here goes,” he said. Blue light surrounded the mage’s hands, and he pressed them against the elf’s chest over the left side where the damage was. 

The markings on Fenris’ entire body lit up, casting their shadows starkly against the stone walls as the mage poured his power into him. He felt his spine arch, and vaguely heard Hawke and Merrill exclaim in shock and concern. The fire burning through him drowned out their meaning. Strangely, the only pain he felt was in his injuries and that began to fade as flesh and bone began to knit together. The flames of Anders’ healing were hot, but it wasn’t painful. The feeling was intense though, and he couldn’t prevent his body from convulsing. 

“Hold him down,” Anders grunted. “He’s undoing my work with all that thrashing about.”

Hawke moved to lay down next to Fenris, with one leg across his hips, and an arm thrown over his shoulders, trapping the elf’s arm between their bodies. Merrill knelt at his bare feet, and careful not to touch his skin held his ankles, but she proved too light for the job, and Spark nudged her out of the way and lay down across his shins. Anders lifted one knee and trapped his other arm beneath it. 

Nearly delirious with sensation, and now being forcibly held down, Fenris panicked. He screamed hoarsely.

“I know you can’t rush something like this Anders, but hurry the fuck up,” Hawke growled.

“I’m trying!”

_Held down by magic bonds, he was unable to escape, although he hadn’t given up until his considerable strength gave out. He stared at the ceiling unblinking, nearly blind from the agony, trembling under the onslaught of the pain washing through every new mark his master placed on his skin. He tried to hold on to who he was, but he was fading. All he could hear was a roaring and that too began to fade eventually…._

_“He’s stopped screaming,” a woman’s voiced whined. “Did you break him?”_

_“Don’t worry Hadriana,” Danarius crooned as he delicately dipped the tip of the surgically sharp blade in the thick molten lyrum. He placed it against the skin on Fenris’ ribs and pressed until it broke through the thin membrane, and held it there until the lyrium slipped into the wound like a living creature. The skin continued to open up under the blade as he drew it in a line along the elf’s rib. “He’s strong, and you’ll have so much more fun playing with him when he’s finished.”_

“It’ll be over soon,” a deep voice whispered against the tip of his ear. “Please stop struggling… you’re making it worse.” Fenris felt himself relax slightly. He wasn’t strapped to the table in Danarius’ lab. He was with Hawke. He made an effort to regain control of his muscles. The pain in his chest was fading, and he was getting used to the flames of Anders’ healing magic. 

“Thank the Maker,” Anders said with a sigh. “I’m almost done Fenris,” he said with a healer’s reassuring voice. The elf had heard him use it on patients, but he hadn’t appreciated the comfort that voice could give. 

True to his word, the healing only took a few more minutes. The sudden absence of healing fire was a shock when the mage lifted his hands from Fenris’ skin and he shuddered for a moment more until the glow in his tattoos faded. When his muscles unclenched they released him, and he lifted one hand to cover his eyes while he lay on the ground breathing deeply with his newly repaired lung. 

“What in the void just happened?” Hawke asked. Although he was no longer holding Fenris down, his voice was still close, and the elf felt comforted by that.

“I had to pour a lot of magic into him for that,” Anders answered wearily. “And my magic is intertwined with Justice’s power. I think the lyrium reacted to his presence.” His face was scrunched up in worry and sorrow. “I didn’t know it would cause him that much pain, I swear.”

Feeling more like himself every second, Fenris pushed himself up. “It didn’t hurt, exactly,” he said hoarsely.

“The fuck it didn’t,” Hawke said indignantly. “We could see how you reacted.”

“It was intense, and a shock to my system,” Fenris said with a shake of his head, “but it wasn’t pain.” He kept quiet about the flashback being held down had given him. He didn’t want them to feel guilty for doing what was needed to heal him. He looked up at Anders. He didn’t like the mage, and he didn’t know why he was trying to reassure him. “I don’t want to repeat that any time soon though,” he added with a wry smile for the worried healer. 

Anders’ worried look turned to confusion for a second, but then he smiled. “Well then try not to let giant raging monsters stomp all over you, and I’ll try to throw better shields out.”

Fenris nodded solemnly. “I believe we have a deal, mage. And thank you.”

It took a while before he felt well enough to stand, and they gave him time to recover his strength. When he did finally move to get up Hawke reached to help him, but then pulled back uncertainly. He settled for holding his hand out and giving the elf the choice to accept it or not. 

Fenris reached out and took his hand, and allowed the mage to pull him up. His overly sensitive nerves tingled uncomfortably at the contact. Unable to hide his reaction he hissed as the electricity spread up to his elbow. He was disappointed when Hawke jerked his hand away quickly, but didn’t say anything. 

“Elgar’nan!” Merrill exclaimed suddenly, staring at Fenris in curiosity. Her eyes followed the tattoos exposed by his open shirt down to where they trailed below the waistband of his leggings. “How far down do those go?”

Fenris blushed all the way to the tips of his ears when Hawke and Anders both laughed. Although he was embarrassed and refused to answer, he was almost grateful that the small elf had broken the tension of the moment.

Together they made their way back to the Dalish Camp to speak with Keeper Marethari. Fenris could feel Hawke’s worried eyes on him. He wanted to reassure him that he was ok, but didn’t have the words or the energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my world Fenris and Anders can learn to get along dammit. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela talks some sense into Fenris.

Despite his and (surprisingly) Anders’ objections, Hawke had given the Arulin’holm to Merrill. Fenris had thrown his hands up in frustration and tried to hold his tongue, but she spoke about her mirror non-stop on the trip back to Kirkwall. Eventually he’d snapped at her.

“You are more naïve than I thought. You can’t even begin to imagine the number of mages that have walked down the path you’re now on.” 

“My clan didn’t believe in me. If you don’t believe in me either, I won’t mind.”

When Hawke had tried to intervene, Fenris had also turned on him with a disgusted snarl. “Of course you’ll take her side... Mage.” The last word had dripped with the acid of his fury. Hawke had reached out to touch him, but Fenris had jerked away before he could make contact, and stalked out of the camp. He’d spent the night traveling back to Kirkwall on his own, despite the fact that his anger had faded after an hour or so of walking. He knew his temper had been near the surface since Anders had healed him. His markings felt sensitve and itchy, like a day old sunburn and it had put his nerves on edge. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to contain it, and he didn’t want to go back and have something trigger his anger again.

Now, several months later he remembered the stricken look on Hawke’s face, and he felt bitter regret that his pride hadn’t allowed him to turn back that night. The mage had stopped showing up at his door with his sunny smile, requesting his company while he ran errands, or worked on the last stages of cleaning up his estate. He only found out the work was finished and that Leandra had been moved in with dwarven servants to take care of her weeks later from Varric.

Several times he’d gone to find Hawke to apologize, but then he’d stop himself. He knew the mage wanted to be more than friends, but he deserved better than he’d get with Fenris. So he didn’t seek him out, and he tried to ignore the way the days always seemed dimmer without the human’s presence. 

He found himself spending a lot of time with Varric, Isabella, and even Aveline who had finally talked him into helping train the guards. Despite his earlier resistance to the idea, he had agreed as a way to keep himself busy. They accepted instruction from an elf easily, and he even befriended Donnic and Brennan. 

Today, Fenris was alone. Left at loose ends, he opened the book Hawke had given him and flipped through the pages. The symbols were still meaningless to him, but the book itself was a treasured possession. 

“You seem especially broody today.”

Fenris only barely kept from jumping when Isabela spoke from the doorway of his room. “Does it bother you?” he asked casually. “Should I stop?”

The pirate plopped down in a chair at the table where he sat, crossed her legs gave him a considering look. “No, don’t stop. But could you add some smoldering to the routine?” She batted her eyes at him. “Just for me?”

“Smolder?” he asked in confusion.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, and while you’re at it, perhaps some cold insolence?”

Fenris lifted an eyebrow. “You want me to smolder and be cold at the same time? Those don’t go together.”

Isabela waved a hand at him dismissively. “Shush. Don’t distract me with your logic.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “What can I do for you Isabela?”

She ran her tongue over her top lip suggestively. “I’ll tell you what you can do _to_ me.” 

“No need,” he replied dryly. 

Despite her laugh, she became marginally more serious. “It’s Wicked Grace night. I was hoping I could talk you into showing up.”

Fenris looked down at the book he still held. He gently closed it and placed it on the table. “I don’t think so.”

Isabela frowned in disappointment. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know.”

He didn’t pretend that he didn’t understand. “I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh? That’s certainly how it appears,” she said skeptically. Her observant eyes dropped down to the book. “Hawke gave you that book didn’t he? Is it any good?”

Fenris blushed lightly. “I am unable to read it. Hawke offered me lessons, but…”

“But you’re avoiding him.”

He didn’t answer, and only stared down at the book. 

“Maker, you’re both idiots,” Isabela said in disgust.

Fenris jerked his head up in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

Isabela had one elbow propped on the arm of the chair, with her chin resting on her fist. She stared at him hard for a moment before she spoke. “You,” she said, enunciating carefully, “are an idiot. And so is Hawke.”

She was probably right about him, although her reasons for thinking so were probably different than his own. But… “Why is Hawke an idiot?”

Isabela sighed. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she mumbled to herself. She shifted in her seat, leaning back and crossing her arms under her breasts. “That man misses you horribly. When he comes to The Hanged Man, he spends most of his time staring hopefully at the door. When anyone but you walks through it he looks like a kicked mabari puppy.”

Fenris frowned. “You must be mistaken.”

“Nope, definitely not.”

“If he wants to see me, why doesn’t he just come here and find me?” Fenris asked.

“He’s a mage,” Isabella said vaguely.

He was even more confused. “So?” he asked.

She sat up and slapped her palm on the table. “Exactly!”

Irritation made him throw up his hands. “I need a drink,” he growled. He got up and pulled a bottle of wine from a crate. He pulled the cork and took a large swallow. Walking back to the table he held it out to her in a silent offer to share. When she handed it back after also taking a drink straight from the bottle, he said “Can you please try to make sense?”

“He thinks you hate him,” Isabela answered. “Because he’s a mage. Merrill told me about what happened on Sundermount, and I can see why he’d think that.”

“I don’t hate him,” Fenris muttered.

“Then what is going on?” Isabela demanded in her captain’s voice.

Fenris who had been pacing, stopped and sighed. “He wants something from me that I’m afraid I can’t give. I am an ex slave, scarred in more ways than one.”

“And he’s an apostate refugee,” she pointed out.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and I find myself unable to let go of my hatred for mages.” He started pacing again. “Even though I see his strength and his goodness, I can’t let go of my distrust.”

“So you’re afraid of him?”

Fenris’ steps slowed. Did he fear Hawke? Yes, although he’d never been given reason to, other than the man’s ability to pull power from the Fade. It is not just his power that I fear, he thought. I fear his power over me. He followed Hawke, a powerful mage living outside the control of the Templars. He couldn’t help but think if he had been his master instead of Danarius, he might have happily stayed a slave in Tevinter. 

Impatient with his silence Isabela broke into his thoughts. “I think I know the answer to that,” she said. “And the reasons behind it. You’ve really got to talk to him about this though. He’ll understand.”

“Yes,” Fenris agreed with a smile. “He probably will. But I do not want to burden him with my problems.”

“He burdens himself with your problems,” Isabela said. “You might as well be there to share the load.”

He chuckled. “That was almost profound. You’d better be careful, or someone might mistake you for someone with a mind behind those pretty eyes.”

“Maker forbid,” Isabela said in disgust. “That makes it so much harder to get laid.”

Fenris came to a stop near the table, and ran his fingers over the leather binding of the book Hawke had given him. “What do you suggest I do?”

Isabela smiled widely. “Well, coming to The Hanged Man tonight would be a great place to start. And maybe you should take Hawke up on those reading lessons. All completely innocent.” Her eyes sparkled, “Unless you wish to be naughty. It would probably be good for both of you.”

“I’m sure Hawke doesn’t need me for that,” Fenris said.

She made a thoughtful sound. “Hm, no. He probably doesn’t.”

Ouch.

Isabela stood, and made to leave. Before she walked out the door, she turned and smiled at him. “But luckily, he wants you for that. And for more I’d wager.” She winked at him, and turned to walk out.

Fenris followed her out of the room, and stood at the top of the stairs watching her as she stepped lightly over a trip wire and deftly avoided the tile that had a pressure bomb hidden underneath. He knew better than to accept a wager with her. He hadn’t forgotten that she cheated. He looked back over his shoulder and focused on the book. One side of his mouth lifted wryly. It was a bet he wouldn’t mind losing in this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit rushed, but I had to get it out of my head before bedtime or I wasn't going to be able to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness and a request for lessons.

Fenris paused at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to Varric’s suite and took a deep breath. It didn’t help. Cursing at himself in Arcanum for being a coward, he forced himself to put his bare foot on the bottom step. Slowly he ascended to the second floor. Approaching the door, he could hear laughter and conversation. It sounded like everyone was already there, along with a voice he didn’t recognize. Curiosity brought him forward, but he stood a few steps outside the portal and took in the scene.

Varric sat at the head of the table as usual, but next to him sat a very striking man in polished white armor. Everyone was gathered around him listening to the story he was telling Varric in a softspoken brogue. Only Anders sat apart, arms crossed, and glaring at the stranger. 

Hawke was sitting right across from the handsome stranger, leaning on his crossed arms on the table top. Whatever was being said must have been amusing because he was grinning widely, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Fenris felt a knot of tension between his shoulders ease, and when the mage laughed showing his strong white teeth through his beard, he felt a different kind of tension in his groin. He gave an involuntary shiver as he felt the sound wash over him, and a tingle raced through every line of lyrium in his skin causing it to glow softly for a few seconds.

Varric was the first to notice him. “Well well, if it isn’t the broody elf,” he called out. Raising both hands in a gesture of welcome, he beckoned Fenris forward. 

“Wonderful,” Anders said sarcastically. “Two Templar lovers in one room. This should be so much more fun than it was before.”

Hawke had whipped his head around and was staring at Fenris. His expression was a mixture of relief and worry which mirrored the elf’s feelings exactly. A slow smile of welcome spread over Hawke’s face, and Fenris felt himself smile in reaction. 

Isabela who had been sitting next to Hawke jumped up and hurried across the room before he could step further through the door. “Fenris! Come downstairs and help me bring up some drinks.”

“What? But I-“

The pirate grabbed his arm to forcibly turn him and push her ahead of him. He allowed her to, but he couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder to meet Hawke’s confused gaze for a few seconds before he had to pay attention to the stairs he was about to walk down. “What is this about Isabela?” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” she said as she walked up to the bar and motioned for Corff to come take her order. 

“A plan for what?”

In answer she pulled a thin book from somewhere and waved it in front of his face with a wicked smile. “You’re still going to ask Hawke to teach you to read, right?” She tucked it into the pouch on his belt without waiting for him to answer. “Ask him to teach you with this.” When he reached down to pull it back out, she slapped his hand away. “No peeking.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Fenris asked her as she handed him four bottles of wine to carry upstairs.

“Because you have a serious lack of imagination,” Isabela said with a saucy smile. She tossed her head toward Varric’s suite in an invitation to follow her.

Knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer out of her, he shrugged and followed her back upstairs. They arrived to a general cheer of welcome which Fenris suspected was mostly for the wine he carried. Isabela nudged him onto the bench next to Hawke and then squeezed in next to him. 

Hawke smiled at him almost shyly and accepted one of the bottles which he passed on to Varric. “It’s good to see you, Fenris.”

Feeling unsure of himself, the elf nodded in greeting. “Gabe,” he said softly. The mage’s smile at the use of his name was slow and radiant. And just like that, his doubts about whether Hawke would forgive him for the incident on Sundermount faded. He glanced at Merrill, and she smiled at him hesitantly. He tilted his head at her by way of apology. If Hawke felt he could trust her, then Fenris would give her the benefit of the doubt also. 

“Elf, meet our new pal,” Varric said, gesturing to the blue eyed stranger across the table. “Choir Boy here is the one who hired us to take out the Flint Mercenaries a few years back, and we are going to be working with him again tomorrow.”

The man smiled warmly and held his hand across the table. “It is good to meet you,” he said in his soft burr. “I am Prince Sebastion Vael of Starkhaven.”

Fenris looked down at his hand, then back up at the man. Gingerly he reached out with his own hand, still clad in his gauntlets, and ginglerly wrapped his fingers around the other man’s palm, careful not to cut him or let their skin touch. Sebastion didn’t seem to mind his wary response. “Prince of Starkhaven?” Fenris asked. “Isn’t The Hanged Man a little too seedy for royalty?”

Sebastion laughed. “I am familiar with drinking and whoring despite the fact that I am now a brother in the Chantry,” he said with a smile.

Isabela sighed from beside him. “Why couldn’t I have met you then?”

Even Fenris smiled as laughter erupted around the table. Soon, a game of Wicked Grace was in full swing, and even though Sebastion didn’t participate in the gambling, he would occasionally lean over and whisper tips in Merrill’s ear. Knowing he was in the Chantry, Fenris wondered if the man knew that he was surrounded by mages.

Hawke noticed Fenris’ frown, and leaned over to get his attention. “What are you frowning about?”

Fenris gave him a suspicious look, and hid his cards against the table. Hawke’s eyes twinkled at the move, but he looked genuinely curious. “Does he know about you?” the elf asked.

“Yes, we discussed it.”

“Do you trust him?” Fenris asked. He ignored the fleeting thought that he was being hypocritical and waited for Hawke’s answer.

“Not as far as I can toss him,” Hawke whispered with a smile. Then he frowned thoughtfully. “Actually, if I count my magic, that’s pretty far…” He thought for a moment then grinned. “I trust him about him about as far as he can toss me.”

Fenris chuckled, and turned his attention back to his cards.

The night wore on and one by one his companions left for their homes. Isabela and Varric were playing two-man Diamondback while Hawke watched with his elbow propped on the table, leaned way over so he could see the dwarf’s cards. Fenris sipped his wine and listened to the two rogues arguing about who was cheating. 

Fenris was pleasantly warm, and fairly sure he was drunk. He was content to soak up the peaceful atmosphere. Since he wasn’t participating in the conversation his thoughts drifted, and he remembered the small book Isabela had slipped him earlier. When he was sure she wasn’t looking, he pulled it out of his belt pouch and curiously flipped it open to a random page. Each page held an illustration, along with the seemingly random markings that spelled out unknown words. 

Focusing a little closer, he realized what he was looking at, and slapped the book closed, holding it between his hands. His action caught Hawke’s attention, and the mage leaned towards him. 

“What have you got there?” he asked.

Fenris flushed. “Er… nothing,” he mumbled and moved to put it back in his belt pouch.

Hawke reached out with surprisingly deft fingers for how much alcohol he’d consumed and grabbed the small book. After a short examination of the blank cover, he opened it. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he threw Fenris a sideways look. “What are you doing with this?” he asked.

“Fenris!” Isabela suddenly scolded, causing the mage and the elf to jump. “You were supposed to wait until you were alone to ask him for lessons!”

If it was possible, Hawke looked even more shocked. He turned to pin Fenris with his stare. “I’d _love_ to teach you a few things if that’s what you really want..?”

Fenris cursed in Arcanum and grabbed the book and tucked it back into his belt pouch. “It was meant for reading lessons. Isabela gave it to me. I didn’t know what it was until just now.”

Hawke was silent for another few seconds before he started laughing loudly. He held his stomach and covered his face with one hand. “Oh Maker Isabela, you are the _best friend_ I’ve ever had.”

Varric, who hadn’t seen the book looked around at them in confusion. “What book is it?” 

Hawke stood up wobbily. “It’s a lesson book,” He said shortly. Grabbing Fenris by the wrist he dragged the elf up next to him. “Goodness it’s late,” he exclaimed. “I’m going to walk Fenris home, see you all tomorrow, goodnight!” That last part was a spill of quick words as Hawke dragged him from the suite and out of the tavern, Isabela’s laughter echoing behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha! Dirty books ftw!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nighttime streets of Kirkwall are dangerous. So are Hawke and Fenris.

Hawke never let go of Fenris’ wrist as he pulled him quickly through the Lowtown market and up the stone steps to Hightown. The elf tolerated it for a while, but he wasn’t sure what was going through the other man’s mind. With a light tug he tried to pull his hand free.

“Hawke, you can let go of me,” he said.

The mage tightened his grip, and with a yank, pulled the surprised warrior into an alcove and pressed him against the stone wall. “What happened to using my first name?” he asked in a low, almost threatening tone.

Fenris felt his eyes widen in surprise, and he tilted his head back to stare into the much taller human’s eyes. He’d never seen the man act like this. Usually he was all snark and teasing, and if he didn’t get what he wanted he backed off with an easy smile. This behavior was more aggressive than what he’d previously seen, but it made his heart pound in excitement, not fear. His gaze dropped to the mage’s mouth. His free hand slid up to grip the other man’s shirt at his waist. “Gabe…” he whispered.

It was all he got out before Hawke pressed his open mouth to his. The kiss was unexpectedly gentle as the mage explored Fenris’ mouth with his tongue and lips. Hawke let go of his wrist, and slid both hands up around the elf’s face, one thumb smoothing back and forth over the forked tattoo under his mouth and Fenris took the opportunity to wrap that arm around him and pull him closer. He shivered as he felt electricity spread down from his chin into his throat.

Hawke grunted as the elf’s armor dug into his chest, but didn’t pull away. For several minutes the silence of the night was only broken by the sound of their gasping breath, and the wet sucking slide of their lips against each other. The mage pulled away, pressed his forehead against Fenris’, and closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily and looked like he was trying to regain control of himself. “Be with me tonight,” he said, his tone clearly pleading. 

Not entirely sure of what he would say, Fenris opened his mouth to respond.

“Well, looky here sisters. A couple o’ unarmed gents with coin purses that probably need to be emptied.”

Hawke jerked away and spun to face the woman who spoke. Instinctively both men reached for their weapons, but realized at the same time that in their rush out of The Hanged Man, they’d been left behind in Varric’s suite. They were surrounded by six women armed with wicked daggers; The Invisible Sisters. There were probably more of the thieves hidden in the dark around them. 

Fenris looked sideways at Hawke. “Festis bei umo canavarum,” he grumbled.

Hawke had the nerve to laugh. “I don’t know Arcanum, Fenris. If you want to curse at me, at least say it so I can understand it.”

“Enough talking,” the Sisters’ spokeswoman said, gesturing threateningly. “Turn over yer valuables if ye want to live!”

Fenris growled and flexed his fingers. He may not have his sword, but he was more than adequately armed. “You will be the death of me,” he muttered to the mage. “Shall we end this quickly?” he asked just before he activated his lyrium and phased.

Seeing the telltale glow, Hawke let out a mind blast knocking the surrounding women back, and stunning them. Taking advantage of their surprise Fenris leapt forward and reached into the chest of the nearest woman. He let his hand regain solid form and squeezed her heart into a pulp. He pulled free quickly and dispatched two more foes in similar fashion before anyone else could react. 

Shouts of alarm filled the square as more Invisible Sisters appeared to join the fray, and they were soon surrounded and to the outside eye, grossly outnumbered. Not wanting Hawke to be hit by his powers, Fenris darted between them until he was far enough away and sent out a blast of energy from his tattoos, knocking down half a dozen enemies. 

“Now, Fenris!” Hawke shouted, and when the elf phased at the order, the mage raised his hands and cast the spell he’d been muttering. He jerked his hands back down as if pulling something from the sky, and from the emptiness of the night bolts of lightning sizzled down and struck the thieves repeatedly. Their bodies convulsed painfully, casting terrifyingly twisted shadows against the columns and stalls of the market square. To avoid being fried, Fenris stayed phased at the center of the unnatural storm. 

The elf warrior could feel the lyrium thrumming as its power drained. Phasing used a large amount of energy, and he could only hold it for so long before he would become exhausted. He spun around to see that the electric assault was hitting all of the Sisters in the square. It was a gruesome way to die, but no less so than what he could do to them. He turned to walk towards Hawke who still had his hands half raised and was concentrating on holding the storm until he was sure all their enemies were taken care of.

Due to his concentration on the spell, he didn’t notice one of the thieves jump down from the roof of the building behind him. Fenris opened his mouth to call out a warning, and tried to leap forward to push the mage out of the way, but he was too late. The woman stabbed a long jagged dagger into Hawke’s side and twisted viciously.

Hawke cried out in pain, and let go of the spell. There were still two of the hardier Sisters alive, and they were between Fenris and the mage. Still phased, he ran straight toward them and ripped his clawed gauntlets through their bodies in a spray of blood. He was still too far away though. He watched in horror as the thief raised another knife high, and brought it down towards Hawke’s exposed shoulder.

Hawke twisted away from the second stab, and his blood made the dagger still embedded in his side slippery causing the thief to lose her hold on it. He grabbed her descending arm with one hand, and with a pained shout poured lightning directly into her body. Her seizing muscles wouldn’t allow her to scream as he pulled the dagger from his side, flipped it, and jammed it up under her ribs. With a gasp, he released her and she crumpled into a smoking bloody heap at his feet. 

Fenris reached the mage just as his legs gave way. He caught him, and gently lowered him to the ground. Blood was pooling around them at an alarmingly quick rate, and he could feel it soaking into his leggings as he cradled the injured human. “Can you move?” he asked urgently. “I need to get you to Anders for healing.” He pushed down the panic he felt when he saw how pale Hawke’s skin was already getting.

“No,” Hawke grunted, “It’s too far. I’ll have to do it myself.”

“This is not a superficial bruise or cut, Gabe. I saw her twist that knife. Are you sure you can heal that kind of damage?” Fenris demanded.

Green light surrounded Hawke’s hand, and he reached for the gash in his side. “Let’s hope so,” he mumbled. “I’d hate to have… Anders disappointed… in my poor learning skills.” 

Fenris grabbed Hawke’s hand and guided it to the wound, holding it there. While he waited for the mage to attempt to heal himself he looked up and around cautiously. He wasn’t sure if there would be more thieves coming, and they were vulnerable here in the Hightown market square. It took an agonizingly long time, but eventually the bleeding stopped and the wound closed. It still looked raw and painful, but now it looked like it had been healing for days rather than freshly aquired.

Hawke was gasping for breath, obviously exhausted from blood loss and the effort to heal something more complicated than he’d ever tried before. 

“Let me take you to Anders,” Fenris demanded when it looked like Hawke could do no more for himself. 

“No,” Hawke sighed. “My home is closer. Take me there, and send Bodahn to get Anders.”

Realizing his logic was sound, Fenris nodded. Very carefully he helped the mage to his feet. He carefully draped Hawke’s arm over his shoulders, and they slowly made their way through the square toward the estate. Every time the mage let out a hiss of pain Fenris winced and gritted his teeth. He was strong and could probably lift Hawke, but because he was smaller than the human, it would be more difficult. Plus there was no guarantee it would be any less painful than moving on his own was.

 

They eventually made it to their destination. Thankfully Bodahn hadn’t listened to Hawke when he was ordered not to wait up, and he was waiting in the front hall reading a book. He didn’t question Fenris’ order to fetch the healer, and left immediately. Spark was also there, and he was obviously worried about his master. However he went with Bodahn to protect him on his journey into Darktown at Hawke’s softspoken request. He only whined once in concern and nudged his head under the mage’s hand for an ear scratch before he bounded after the dwarf.

Fenris helped Hawke up to his room and gently eased him onto the bed. He pulled off his gauntlets, and then started undressing Hawke so he could be more comfortable.

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Hawke managed to breath with a wicked grin. “Not quite the way I imagined it though.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Fenris replied quietly. Once he’d removed the mage’s boots, he moved to unlace Hawke’s shirt and carefully pull it over his head. “Although I’m sure many people have imagined stabbing you,” he added. 

“It’s cruel to tease an injured man, Fenris.”

Fenris smiled into Hawke’s eyes. “I know,” he said simply. He used a washcloth and the water from a pitcher and basin near the bed to clean the blood from Hawke’s skin. Afterwards he finished disrobing the mage, leaving him in his smalls. Gently, he pulled a sheet over him. 

“You should remove your armor too,” Hawke said tiredly. “You’re covered in gore. You can borrow some of my clothes.” He made a weak gesture to the wardrobe next to the bed. 

Fenris looked down at himself. Hawke was right, he was splattered with blood, and his legs were soaked from the knees down. He stripped off the rest of his armor and clothing until he stood in only his tight leggings. He hesitated briefly over the idea of stripping down completely in front of the mage, but decided it wasn’t something he would worry over for now. Turning his back to the bed, he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and pulled them off. A soft gasp from behind him made him look over his shoulder.

Hawke was staring at him, his mouth open in shock. His eyes traveled down Fenris’ back, following the lines of lyrium which curled in archaic designs all the way from shoulder to heel. When those whiskey eyes met his again, Hawke smiled slowly and wickedly. “Isabela owes me five sovereigns,” he said.

Fenris felt a laugh bubble up and he couldn’t hold it in. It had been almost three years since he’d learned about that bet, and he’d forgotten about it. Of course Hawke and Isabella wouldn’t.

He felt Hawke’s eyes burning into him, as he used the remaining water to wipe away the dried blood on his skin, before he put on the tunic and trousers he’d pulled from the wardrobe before removing his own clothing. He kept his body turned slightly away as he slipped into the soft attire. It was very loose on him. The tunic slipped off one shoulder, and even with the drawstrings pulled tightly the trousers sagged on his hips. 

If the mage noticed that he kept himself somewhat hidden, he didn’t comment. When Fenris was finished dressing, he reached out a hand and beckoned for him to join him on the bed. The elf stared at him as he considered the silent request. Finally he acquiesced, and crawled onto the bed on Hawke’s uninjured side. He stayed on top of the sheets though.

Hawke wrapped his arm around Fenris’ shoulders and pulled him close, so the elf’s head was pillowed on his shoulder. The position was very comfortable. Between the alcohol he’d consumed earlier, the draining fight, and the worry he felt over the mage’s injury, he was exhausted. His eyes drooped closed and he slipped into one of his more pleasant dreams about the man beside him.

When Anders arrived a quarter of the hour later, he found the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, both fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, first action scene I've ever written. I was afraid to post it until my husband read it and gave it an ok. Does that make him my beta? If so, then he's a good one for putting up with a slashfic when that's so not his thing lol.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders come to an understanding.

After Anders had healed Hawke and given him some herbs to keep him asleep for the rest of the night, Anders motioned for Fenris to follow him out of the room.

Hawke hadn’t fallen back to sleep yet. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, his words slurred from the medicine.

Fenris held up a hand and nodded at Anders to indicate he’d be right out. Turning back to Hawke, he stepped close to the bed and leaned down to take the hand the mage was holding out to him. “If you wish me to stay I will.”

“Yes,” Hawke said. His eyes began to droop and then he forced them wide in an attempt to fight sleep a little longer. “I liked having you beside me…” his voice trailed off as he lost his battle with the herbs.

“I’m just going to speak with Anders then. I’ll be right back,” Fenris promised. Hawke nodded and let go of his hand. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. Anders was speaking with Leandra who had awoken when Bodahn and the healer had arrived. Fenris stepped closer to hear what he was saying, also needing the reassurances the healer was giving to Hawke’s mother.

“He’s just tired Mistress Hawke. He’ll be fine with some rest and a big breakfast in the morning,” Anders said gently. “Also, lots of juice if you can arrange it.”

“Thank you so much,” Leandra said tearfully. “Can I see him now?” When Anders nodded she smiled in relief and turned to enter Hawke’s room. She stopped when she saw Fenris, frowning slightly when she noticed what he was wearing.

Fenris shifted uncomfortably. Hawke had made no secret that his mother was trying to marry him off to a noble family’s daughter as soon as possible so he could carry on the family line. He wondered if she knew that her son had different plans for himself. She nodded at him in greeting and stepped around him to enter Hawke’s room, Spark following on her heels.

“That couldn’t have been any more awkward,” Anders said with a smirk.

Fenris scowled. “Did you have something to say to me?”

“Yes,” Anders said. He propped one hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, causing strands of it to come loose from the tie at the back of his head. “I wanted to thank you for sending Bodahn to get me. If you hadn’t, he may not have survived the night.”

Fenris felt his stomach drop to his feet. “What?” he asked.

Anders nodded. “He missed quite a bit when he tried to heal himself. He was bleeding internally. He has a talent for healing, but it takes years to develop. He’s lucky he managed it as well as he did.”

“And now?” Fenris demanded.

“He’ll be fine, just as I told his mother. I was able to move the blood that hadn’t died back into his veins and sealed things up properly,” Anders said soothingly. “I left him a bit of a scar though. I have a feeling he’ll want to show it off like a trophy.”

Fenris rubbed his face with both hands. He’d known it was a close call, but having it confirmed made his heart pound uncomfortably. It felt like the adrenaline rush he’d get when he was protecting Danarius, and he didn’t like the reminder. _Hawke is different_ , he thought to himself angrily. _I hope_.

He looked up to see Anders staring at him strangely. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked in a growl.

Anders sighed. “Look, you and I will probably never be friends…”

Fenris grunted in agreement.

“But I just want you to know,” Anders said with a pointed look that let the elf know he was deliberately ignoring his reaction. “I appreciate the fact that you’re giving him a chance, him being a mage and all.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Fenris demanded.

Anders looked away for a moment, and when he turned back his caramel colored eyes were so miserable that Fenris almost took a step back. “I… care for him too, you know,” he said slowly. He looked away again, unable to meet the elf’s eyes. “He is the truest, most noble person I have ever met. He is a shining example of what a mage- no- a _man_ should be-“ His voice broke, and he took a shuddering breath. Suddenly he pinned Fenris with a fierce look. “I have no idea what he sees in you, but he cares about you. Please don’t cock this up.”

Fenris stared back at this mage who had taken a demon, or spirit – whatever, into himself. He was an abomination, unnatural and dangerous. Right now though, Fenris only saw a man who was more than a healer, or a revolutionary. He was just a man who cared deeply for his friends. He could never fully be trusted, but right now Fenris felt he could respect him for making this request.

“I don’t want to,” Fenris said quietly.

“But no promises, huh?” Anders asked with a wry twist to his lips. “If there’s anything I can empathize with you on, it’s that.”

“You’re room is ready Messere,” Bodahn said from behind Anders, and the mage thanked him.

“You’re staying here tonight?” Fenris asked, truthfully a little grateful the healer would be nearby.

“Yes,” Anders said. “He should be out of danger, but I’d like to check on him in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said sincerely.

Anders nodded and turned to follow Bodahn to his guest room.

“Would you like me to make up a room for you Messere?” Bodahn asked him.

Fenris shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ll be staying with Hawke.”

Bodahn didn’t bat an eye. “Very good, Messere. Would you like me to fetch you some clothes from your home?”

“Er… no, that’s not a good idea,” Fenris said, thinking of the traps. “I can just wear the ones I came in.”

“I’ll clean them for you then,” the dwarf offered.

“There is no need-“ Fenris started, but Bodahn just waved away his objection.

“Tis no trouble at all, Messere,” he said with a smile.

Fenris followed him into Hawke’s room. Bodahn gathered his armor and clothing and left with a nod of his head. When the elf turned back to the bed, Leandra was staring at him.

“You’re staying in here, are you?” she asked.

 _Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this_ , Fenris thought ruefully. “He asked me to,” he answered. “So, yes. For tonight.”

She smiled at him tentatively, and stood up to leave the room. Stopping right in front of him, she reached out and took his hand. The feeling that ran through his tattoos at her touch was soft and gentle, like the brush of butterfly wings. “Thank you for taking care of him,” she said earnestly. With a last worried look at her son, she left the room.

Surprised at her easy acceptance of his presence in her son’s room for the night, he stared at the closed door. He heard Hawke whisper his name, and he turned back to the bed. Quickly he returned to his place at the mage’s side. Spark who was sprawled across the foot of the bed shifted so he wasn’t in the way of Fenris’ feet. This time their sleep was uninterrupted until the morning.

 

The next day, despite the protests from Anders, Fenris, and his mother, Hawke insisted on keeping his promise to help Sebastion. He did allow the elf and the healer to accompany him though.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Anders whispered shortly after they found vials of blood, hinting at the use of blood magic.

“If Varric were here, he’d tell you to keep your mouth shut,” Fenris growled. “Since he isn’t, allow me the pleasure. Shut the void up.”

Their fears were confirmed as they moved deeper into the building, finding that the Harimann family had all been possessed. They fought through demons until they found Lady Harimann conferring with a desire demon.

“You’ve already traded your husband and your children,” the demon’s voice whispered. “What more can you offer?”

“At the Blooming Rose, fifty silver is standard for a whore,” Hawke said snarkily.

Fenris watched warily as Sebastion conversed with the demon. He could sense the power in its voice as it tried to gain control over him.

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I will hear no more from you,” he growled. With a sweep of his staff he encased the demon and Lady Harimann in ice, and his companions joined him in the fight. It was difficult clearing the room of shades, and taking down both a blood mage and a demon, but they prevailed.

After dealing with Lady Harimann’s family, they walked out of the cursed mansion into the light of day. Fenris took a deep breath of the relatively clean air. His throat felt coated with the stench of demons and blood magic, and he was happy to be away from that evil.

“Are you all right?” Hawke asked him.

“You’re asking me?” Fenris asked in surprise. “You’re the one who should be resting instead of fighting maleficarum.”

Hawke smiled ruefully. “Well, you know me. Can’t stay out of trouble for anything.”

“It does seem to follow you,” Fenris said with a smile. After a moment, he frowned thoughtfully. “I am… impressed,” he said.

“With what?” Hawke asked. They were walking towards the Chantry with Sebastion in the lead. He wanted to report what had happened to the Grand Cleric.

Anders, who was walking on Hawke’s other side, snorted. “He’s probably shocked you didn’t allow the demon to influence you.”

It was true, but Anders made it sound wrong. “Some mages are weak,” Fenris said with a pointed scowl at the healer.

“You really shouldn’t badmouth Merrill when she isn’t around,” Anders said nonchalantly.

“I was talking about you, Abomination,” Fenris growled.

Anders opened his mouth for a hot retort, but Hawke laughed and threw an arm around each of them and squeezed them close. “And here I thought the talk you two had last night would mean a truce. At least for a few days, instead of a few hours.”

“You… heard that?” Anders asked weakly.

“The door wasn’t shut all the way,” Hawke said with a smile for the other mage, which he then turned on Fenris. “And you’re not the only one with sensitive hearing,” he added. “Especially when you two weren’t really trying to keep it down. The look on Mother’s face was priceless. Hopefully she’ll stop pushing girls at me now.”

The elf and the healer both flushed bright red, causing Hawke to laugh loudly. He gave them both another squeeze, before he let them go. “I promise I’ll keep it a secret,” he said and then with a few quick steps caught up with Sebastion to talk to him about the events at the Harimann estate.

“Remember how I said last night was awkward?” Anders asked. “That was worse.”

Fenris nodded. “Exponentially.”

 

[Artwork by Syberfag](http://syberfag.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that. Another chapter. A big thank you to autumnesquirrel... your last comment inspired this one. Once again I had to get it out of my brain before bedtime ;)
> 
> I commissioned the art from syberfag.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris' peace is destroyed.

Hawke took Fenris’ reading lessons seriously. With a suggestive grin he advised the elf to hang onto the book Isabela gave him so that when he could read on his own he could give Hawke a lesson. They spent nearly all of their free time together, although strangely the mage didn’t make any further advances. Fenris would have worried about that, but they were kept so busy by the Viscount’s requests to deal with the Qunari, and other jobs that required Hawke’s attention. By the time they were able to take a few private moments for lessons they were both exhausted. 

Today, for once no one seemed to require Hawke’s assistance with anything. He’d appeared at Fenris’ door early in the morning and invited him over for lessons. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor in the library, once again using Spark as a back rest. 

After only a few lessons, Fenris was already sounding out simple words on his own. The book he currently held was a children’s book. The story sounded familiar, and he paused in his laborious reading as a thought occurred to him. He stared at the book blankly, prompting Hawke to lean closer.

“Having trouble?” he asked. Once he’d taught Fenris letters, he just let the elf work out words on his own for the most part, only helping when it was apparent he was struggling.

“I… remember this story,” Fenris said. “But I can’t remember where I’ve heard it.”

“You think you might have heard it before you got your markings?” Hawke asked.

“Perhaps,” Fenris replied softly. He bowed his head and closed his in concentration. When nothing more came to him, he slammed the book closed and threw it across the room in frustration. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Nothing,” he said desperately. “I remember nothing.”

Hawke quickly moved to wrap one arm around Fenris’ shoulders. With his other hand he pulled the elf’s face into the crook of his neck and held him. “It’s all right,” he whispered against Fenris’ white hair. “Don’t push yourself.”

Fenris accepted Hawke’s embrace. After a moment he smiled at the irony of letting one mage comfort him for the actions of another. He pulled back and green eyes met brown. “This is very strange,” he said.

“What is?” Hawke asked, still cradling the side of Fenris’ face gently.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re a mage.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow, although the movement was half hidden behind his shaggy hair. “Is that a problem?”

Fenris nodded slightly. “Some mornings I wake up with the fear that this is a fever dream, and I will awake still chained to a cruel master in Tevinter. Even worse, sometimes I dream that you are Danarius, and that he’s using this fantasy to control me.”

Hawke started to pull away, horrified. “I wouldn’t- I’m not-“

Reaching up, Fenris touched his bare fingers over Hawke’s forehead, brushing the black locks back and continuing with the caress until he held the mage still with fingers laced through the hair at his temple. Lightning buzzed through the tattoos in his fingers, telling him without question this was not his old master, whose power had felt like rotten slime in the lines of lyrium. “I know that,” he said reassuringly. “I do not trust that mages will not take more power for themselves than they need. But I do trust you. I don’t think Danarius would be able to fabricate someone as good as you. He wouldn’t know how.”

The mage smiled. “Why Fenris, I do believe you’re soft on me.”

“Soft in the head for wishing to spend time with you, maybe,” Fenris said with a small teasing smile. 

“Maker knows, that’s probably true of any of my friends,” Hawke said with a sarcastic twist of his lips. 

“Well isn’t this cozy,” Isabela drawled from the doorway.

“No kidding. If Varric was here, he’d be scrambling to take notes for a new chapter of Hard In Hightown,” Anders said from beside her.

Hawke and Fenris both jumped at the voices behind them. “Thanks for the warning, Spark,” the mage muttered as the mabari got up to greet the new guests. He rose to his feet and offered Fenris a hand up. “What can I do for you two?” he asked.

“I’ve got a lead on the relic,” Isabela said as she gave Spark the requisite scratch behind his ears. “Sparklefingers here followed me.”

“You mentioned it was out on the Wounded Coast,” Anders said. “I’m low on herbs, so I thought I’d tag along. Kill two birds with one stone. Or two bandits with one fireball. It’s sixes.”

Hawke sighed and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. “Alright,” he said in a resigned voice. “Fenris, do you want to come along?”

“I have nothing better to do,” he agreed with an indifferent shrug. He looked down at himself. He had foregone his armor when he’d joined Hawke this morning and was wearing a long sleeveless vest over his typical tight leggings. “I’ll need to change.”

Since Hawke also needed to don his armor, they agreed to split up. Anders stayed at Hawke’s so he could get some new enchantments from Sandal, and Isabela went with Fenris. They met just outside the door of Danarius’ mansion and turned to leave the city. 

Isabela bumped her shoulder against Hawke’s. “I didn’t get a chance to find out what color his underwear is,” she pouted.

Fenris twisted to look at Hawke in surprise that he hadn’t collected his five sovereigns yet. The mage grinned and winked at him when he answered Isabela. “He’s surprisingly stubborn about showing it off apparently.”

Isabela noticed the look they shared and gave them both a suspicious look, but didn’t push the issue. 

Several miles outside of Kirkwall they were walking adjacent to a cliff, when several men surrounded them with weapons drawn. Fenris fell into a defensive crouch. “Hunters,” he growled. The pleasant mood he’d been in melted away in a rush of adrenaline.

“Stop right there!” called a man who appeared to be the leader, from atop the cliff. “You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now, and you’ll be spared.” 

Hawke bristled. “He’s not a slave!” He punctuated the statement with a bolt of lightning from his outthrust palm, straight into the face of the man who’d spoken.

The rest of the slavers attacked, and the ensuing fight was brutal. Fenris, enraged that the hunters were after him again after so many years, felled most of them himself. When they were surrounded by bodies, he looked around, hoping for another enemy to vent his rage upon. His eyes fell on a young mage several feet away, trying to crawl away on his belly to escape. 

Fenris stalked over to the prone figure and grabbed him by the hair. “Where is he?” he asked, his usually raspy voice warped further in a threatening growl. He slammed the boy’s face into the ground, and then pulled it back painfully.

“Please don’t kill me,” the mage whispered.

Fenris slammed his face down again. “Tell me!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I swear,” the boy groveled. “Hadriana brought us.” He went on to give Fenris the details of their mission and that she was hiding nearby in some caves used by slavers to hold their captives, now long since abandoned. When he was finished, the elf snapped his neck and stood up in disgust.

“Hadriana,” he growled. He was shaking with rage and fear. “I was a fool to think I was free. They’ll never let me be!” He clenched his hands into fists. The tips of his gauntlets cut welts into his skin, but the pain focused him and he was able to calm himself enough to stop trembling. 

Hawke looked up from the body of the dead mage. “She is someone you know?” he asked.

“My old master’s apprentice,” Fenris explained. “I remember her well… A sniveling social climber who would sell her own children if it would please Danarius.” He stared at Hawke intently, distantly aware that the mage took a step back from him cautiously. “If she’s here, it is at his bidding. I knew he wouldn’t let this go!”

“They are no longer a threat, Fenris,” Hawke said, his hand held up as if to calm the enraged elf.

Unfortunately, the gesture didn’t sooth him at all. “There will be more!” he growled. “We need to find her. We’ll send a message to Danarius he won’t soon forget.”

Hawke nodded. “All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Fenris turned on his bare heel and stalked in the direction of the holding caves, which were not very far away. When they arrived, there were more slavers outside. The elf knew they had the right place when shades and rage demons also attacked them. 

“So,” Anders said conversationally after they’d wiped out another group of young mages and their pets. “There must be mages in Tevinter that don’t use blood magic.”

Fenris didn’t look at him to answer. He was leading the way into the caves where stone tunnels lead in several directions. “There are slaves. The magisters do not hesitate to collar their own kind.”

“But no magisters?” Anders asked, to all appearances oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in by baiting the angry elf. When Hawke shook his head at the healer in warning, he ignored him.

“Why must you go on about this?” Fenris asked angrily. “No magister would turn down an advantage over his rivals. If he did, he’d be dead.”

Anders stopped next to a dead mage who had started to mutate as a demon had tried to possess him. He’d been stopped halfway through the transformation when Fenris had run him through. “You know,” he said conversationally. “To use blood magic you must look a demon in the eye and accept his offer.”

“What is your point?” Fenris asked in exasperation.

Anders shrugged and looked up at the elf with a wry smile. “I just figured some of them would say no. For aesthetic reasons, if nothing else.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but didn’t point out that the healer was hosting a demon of his own. Now was not the time. 

In the next room they found a terrified young elf girl, a slave named Orana. She told them that Hadriana had killed all the slaves and drained them before fleeing further into the caves.

“Why would she do this?” Fenris asked her in surprise. 

Anders answered. “It is a demon at work. By this point, there’s nothing human left inside.”

“The magister,” the slave said. “She said she needed power. That someone was coming to kill her.”

Fenris felt his rage fade, as guilt took its place. If he hadn’t insisted on coming here to kill Hadriana, all these slaves might have lived. _But still prisoners and at the mercy of the magisters who may still kill them, or worse, on a whim_ , he thought and rage filled him once again. 

Hawke took pity on the girl, and told her to go to Kirkwall, to the Hawke estate. At first Fenris accused him of being in the market for a slave. 

Hawke gave him a small glare. “I gave her a job, Fenris.”

Fenris felt a small twist of shame for accusing Hawke of something that was so against his character. “My apologies,” he said quietly. “Let’s find Hadriana… and be done with this place.”

As Fenris led the group further into the caves he heard Isabela whisper to Hawke. “I hope we get our broody elf back when this is over.”

Fenris did not turn around to find out Hawke’s reaction. If he had, he would have seen the mage staring sadly at his back as Isabela reached out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting there!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris regrets taking his anger out on Hawke.

“Master Hawke is not in, Messere,” Bodahn said apologetically.

Fenris sighed. “Do you know when to expect him back?”

The dwarf shook his head. “Not exactly, no. He escorted his mother to visit her brother. I’m sure they won’t be much longer though if you’d like to wait.”

Fenris accepted the invitation and took a seat near the fireplace in the main hall. He stared down at his palms, the only exposed skin under his gauntlets. He activated the lines of lyrium in his hands and let the physical pain wash through him. He closed his eyes, and the scene replayed in his mind.

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Hawke asked._

_“No! I don’t want to talk about it!” Fenris snarled. He got right in Hawke’s face and railed at him, not caring when the mage stepped back from him worriedly. He needed Hawke to understand that this was not something that could be fixed. Finding out he had a sister who was free, if she truly existed and wasn’t a lie Hadriana created as a trap, was tearing him apart._

_“All that matters is that I got to crush that bitch’s heart. May she rot, and all the other mages with her,” Fenris growled and spit on Hadriana’s corpse._

_Anders glared at the elf. “And here I thought you were unreasonable,” he said sarcastically._

_“We can still try to find your sister,” Hawke said softly._

_Fenris threw a hand up in dismissal. “And what if we do find her? Who knows what the magisters have done to her?” He looked back down at the body of the woman who had tormented him for years before his escape. “What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?”_

The look of pain that crossed Hawke’s face had twisted around his heart, but instead of apologizing, he had left. Abandoned his friends and disappeared for days. He shouldn’t have done that, but he had to. He had already lashed out, and he was afraid he’d keep doing it until he calmed down. 

The sound of the door opening brought him to his feet. He stepped toward the portal hopefully but froze when he heard Leandra’s voice. Unfortunately, it was too late for escape now. He’d have to face them both, so he stood his ground.

They both came to a stop when they saw him. “I’ll just take myself off to bed dear,” Leandra said and leaned up to kiss Hawke on the cheek. She smiled at Fenris before she walked past him. “It’s good to see you,” she said softly and then took herself upstairs.

Hawke stood in the doorway and eyed him warily. Fenris stepped forward hesitantly. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana… I took out my anger on you. Undeservedly so. I was… not myself. I’m sorry.”

“I had no idea where you went,” Hawke said in a neutral tone. “I was worried about you.”

“I needed to be alone,” Fenris said. “She tormented me you know. Things that I do not care to speak about, but that haunt me still. Because of her status, I could do nothing to protect myself.” He sighed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Even now, his hatred for her burned under his skin. “I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn’t,” he said.

“This need for revenge will consume you,” Hawke said softly.

Fenris felt the anger rise up again. “And what would you have me do?” he demanded. “Hadriana came after _me!_ I have never had the option to simply walk away.” He clenched his hands into fists and stepped forward, surprised that Hawke didn’t back up the way he had before. “Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget the things they’ve done to me?”

“I saw what she did to her slaves,” Hawke snapped. “And Orana has talked to me a little. She deserved her fate, Fenris. I don’t begrudge you that. But if you’re wondering why you can’t move on, this is it.”

“Yes, this is it!” Fenris snarled. “Why can I not grasp something _so_ simple?” He looked down at the markings on his arms, beginning to glow softly with his rage, the pain they caused him while active starting to pour through his entire body. “It’s a sickness this hate. This dark growth inside me. And _they_ put it there!” Realizing he was taking his anger out on Hawke again he stopped and sighed. “This… isn’t why I came here.” The glow in his tattoos faded. He needed to get out of here before he made things worse. Apparently he needed more time to calm down. 

Fenris moved to walk past Hawke to the door behind him. The mage caught his arm, his bare hand sending electricity through the tattoos on the elf’s arm. “You’re just going to leave?” Hawke demanded.

Every tattoo on his body lit up, and Fenris spun and pushed Hawke up against the wall angrily. The mage’s head bounced back against the wall with a crack, and he felt the telltale buzz just before his hands would phase out. His eyes widened in horror, and he forced the markings to go dormant as he stared up at Hawke. He began to pull away, opening his mouth to say something, anything.

Hawke didn’t give him the time. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the elf’s, slipping his tongue inside immediately. Fenris relaxed his grip in surprise, and the mage took advantage of his momentary weakness to reverse their positions. 

“No,” Hawke breathed against his mouth. “You’re not going to run from me again.” He planted both hands on the wall, and pressed his full body against Fenris. He kissed the elf again, not gently like their previous kisses, but urgently and rough. 

Fenris kissed Hawke back just as passionately, his anger turned to lust. When the mage finally pulled back to let him breath, they stared at each other for a moment. He had the feeling that if he truly wanted to leave, Hawke would let him. He dug his clawed fingers into the wall behind him, tearing through the decorative silk. “Gabe,” he whispered. 

The taller man grinned wickedly, realizing Fenris was accepting what was about to happen. “Upstairs. Now, or if my mother comes down for a warm glass of milk, we’re all going to be terribly embarrassed.” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed Fenris’ wrist and dragged him upstairs. When they reached the bedroom, Spark looked up from where he was lounging on the foot of the bed. “Out, boy. Go keep Sandal company for the night.”

Spark let out a suspiciously amused sounding whuff, and jumped down to leave the room. Hawke closed the portal behind him and whispered a spell. 

“What was that?” Fenris asked.

Hawke turned back to him and answered him between deep kisses that almost made Fenris forget he’d asked the question. “Barrier spell,” he said. “In case you get noisy.” 

Deft fingers plucked at the buckles of the elf’s armor, and Fenris removed his gauntlets behind Hawke’s back. “What makes you think I’ll be noisy?” he gasped.

Hawke pulled back with a wicked smile. “I’m very good,” he said huskily, causing Fenris to laugh for the first time since that morning down in the library. “Maker, but I missed that sound,” Hawke mumbled. He had Fenris stripped down to just his leggings now, and he pushed the elf back toward the bed until they both tumbled down on it. They shifted until Fenris was reclined against the pillows on the headboard and Hawke was draped over him, his waist between the elf’s legs. 

Hawke pulled his shirt off and Fenris’ markings buzzed and tingled wherever their skin touched. When their chests pressed together his eyes rolled back and he groaned loudly. The mage realized quickly that they would glow under his touch. He traced his tongue down over Fenris’ chin and followed the lines down over his throat, to his chest. When he flicked his tongue over a nipple circled with lyrium, the elf whimpered.

“I can taste it,” Hawke whispered against the nipple he was teasing. “It tingles.”

Fenris made an inarticulate sound and arched against the mage’s mouth, eager for the contact. Hawke obliged him with a chuckle, and after a few moments, moved to the other nipple. His hands traced the lines down over his stomach until he reached the waistband of his leggings. With a tug, he pulled them free then pulled back to look down at Fenris. His eyes widened in surprise.

Flushing with shame, Fenris looked away. He curled his fingers in the sheets to keep them from shaking. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if Hawke rejected him now. 

“Wow,” Hawke finally said in an awed voice. “Those tattoos really are everywhere aren’t they?”

Fenris closed his eyes against a prickle of tears. “Danarius was proud of them, but Hadriana always said they were disgusting.” He hadn’t wanted Hawke to know that the magister and his apprentice had used him as more than a bodyguard, but the words tumbled out on their own. “She used to-“ gentle fingers covered his mouth, stopping him.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. The mage slipped his fingers from his mouth to his cheek, prompting him to open his eyes and look up at the human. Hawke was looking down at him fiercely, his whiskey eyes glowing with reflected firelight. “Too bad you can’t kill that bitch again,” he said. “If I could take away what happened, I would. But despite what you went through to get these marks, they are very beautiful.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to the lyrium that swept up over head of Fenris’ aching erection in a gentle kiss. His breath was hot and moist when he spoke against the sensitive skin, “and so fucking hot.”

Fenris cried out when Hawke swept down and took him fully into his mouth. Between the mage’s hot tongue skillfully stroking his cock, and the tingling lyrium he was nearly delirious with sensation. He felt his orgasm building, and opened his mouth in a warning. “Gabe… I’m going to- I can’t hold on-“ he broke off in a rumbling groan as Hawke slid all the way down until the head was in his throat and swallowed. He tipped over the edge and he felt his whole body spasm and he spilled his seed in the other man’s eager mouth. 

Hawke let Fenris’ semi hard erection slide from his mouth with a pop. He crawled up and slid his tongue into his mouth, and the elf kissed him back just as deeply, reaching up to wrap his hands in the mage’s hair to hold him in place. “Fenris,” he whispered when the elf let him up for air. “I need to be inside you now.”

“Yes,” Fenris gasped.

“How long has it been…?” Hawke asked hesitantly.

“You won’t hurt me,” Fenris assured him.

Hawke laughed. He pulled away and knelt between Fenris’ legs, where the elf could get a proper look at him. He was still wearing his trousers. He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and pulled until his cock sprang free.

Fenris’ eyes widened. “Not purposely anyway,” he said in awe. 

Hawke grinned. “I know what will help.” Fenris was treated to a beautiful display of rippling muscles over Hawke’s stomach and ribs as he leaned over and pulled a bottle of oil from a drawer in the bedside table. He pulled the cork with his teeth and holding himself with one hand, poured oil over the thick head of his erection. He replaced the cork the same way, and after he made sure it was tightly sealed, tossed the bottle into the sheets. 

Fenris sat up. “Let me,” he said. He reached out and slid his palm over the sensitive tip, spreading the oil and making Hawke lean his head back on his shoulders and groan. The elf brushed the mage’s hand away and he used both hands to stroke him, making his entire length slick with the fragrant oil. He could feel himself hardening again in response.

With a growl, Hawke pushed Fenris back onto the bed, and with an arm under his knee shifted him. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he said as he guided his cock to Fenris’ sensitive entrance.

“Gabe,” Fenris growled. “Just fuck me already.”

Hawke chuckled. “As you wish,” he said breathlessly. They both groaned as he slowly pushed forward. 

Fenris was grateful for the oil. Hawke was trying to go slowly, but it had been a very long time for the elf, and the mage was large. He whispered encouragement in the human’s ear though. He was fully excited again and wanted to feel Hawke move inside of him. 

When Hawke did start moving Fenris cried out with each thrust, just as the mage had promised he would. He wrapped his free leg around Hawke’s waist, together they found a rhythm. 

Hawke was staring at him intently, his expression turning desperate as he came closer to release. “Oh Maker,” he grunted. “I love you, Fenris.”

Fenris said something in Arcanum, and reached up to catch Hawke behind the neck and pull him down into a kiss. The mage groaned into his mouth as he came, and the slick warmth filling him sent the elf over the edge as well. 

Slowly their breathing went back to normal, and Hawke pulled free. He drew his fingers through the creamy liquid on Fenris’ stomach and then licked them clean. Then he leaned down and cleaned up the rest with his tongue.

When he finished he lay down on his back and pulled the elf close. He brushed Fenris’ white hair aside, and kissed his forehead. “Looks like the spell was necessary, after all,” he said smugly.

Fenris laughed. “I admit, that is a handy trick with your mother just down the hall.”

“You’re glowy,” Hawke observed. “Is it uncomfortable?”

Fenris shook his head. The warm tingling felt wonderful. 

Hawke accepted the silent answer. With surprisingly deft toes he grabbed the edge of the quilt with one foot and pulled it up until he could grab it with his hand and pull it over both of them. 

Fenris smiled. The last time they’d slept in the same bed, they had kept a sheet between them. Being pressed full length against the taller man’s nude body was amazing, and he felt a twinge of regret that they hadn’t done it already. With that thought in mind, he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! 
> 
> I realize I'm writing this as a friendmance, but the rivalmance conversation after A Bitter Pill was so much sexier :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a dream that changes everything.

_Muscles rippled and clenched. Thrust, parry, dodge, swipe. Blood and sweat sprayed away from powerful bodies and they whipped forward and back with deadly intent. Their blades were dulled for practice but unless ordered otherwise, this was a fight to the death. Master usually wouldn’t allow it to go that far, unwilling to waste valuable warriors, but occasionally he would withhold the order. The survivor would receive a boon._

_“There you are,” called a young girl’s voice from behind him. “If you get caught being lazy, you’ll be punished again.”_

_He didn’t take his eyes away from the fighters he was watching in the courtyard. “Don’t tell anyone where you found me,” he said in irritation, “and it won’t be a problem.”_

_The redheaded elf-child ducked under the drapes with him, and squeezed between him and the wall, which he allowed grudgingly. Several inches shorter than him, she was barely tall enough to peek over the edge of the windowsill. Stretching up on her toes, she looked down at the slaves performing for their master’s pleasure. “Ugh,” she said, and he could picture her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Why are you watching this? It’s boring.”_

_“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. Staring down at the fighters made his mouth go dry and he had to swallow before he could continue. “Like they’re dancing…” he trailed off, once again enthralled._

_“That’s not dancing,” she argued. She watched for a moment more, then jammed her elbow back into his stomach, making him exhale in a pained grunt. “Come on,” she said. “We need to finish our work, or mother won’t receive her food tonight.”_

_Realizing she was right, he moved to follow her from behind the drapes. He paused and took one more look, promising himself that someday he would be down in that courtyard, dancing. She called to him sharply and he snapped into motion. “I owe you for that jab,” he growled threateningly. She let out a delighted squeal and took off at a run and he chased her, fingers curled into fake claws._

_He tackled her at the end of the hall, and knocked her down. He tickled her until tears streamed down her face. “I warned you sister,” he growled. When he could tell she couldn’t take any more he finally relented._

_“Now we’re really going to be late, Leto,” she said through her giggles._

_He frowned down at her. “What did you call me?” he demanded, his voice rougher and deeper, no longer that of a child._

_“Leto,” she said with a laugh._

_“That is not my name,” he whispered. He jumped up and he realized she was much smaller to him now. Looking down at himself, he found his body fully grown. He was clad in his normal black leather and spiked armor and he could feel the weight of his sword at his shoulder. Blue-white lines snaked over the exposed skin of his arms, their pulsing glow matching his heartbeat._

_She stood and looked up at him with a smile. “Of course it is, Leto.” She turned and skipped away, chanting his name in a singsong. “Leto, Leto, Leto…”_

Fenris jerked slightly as he came awake. “Varania,” he whispered. Quickly he closed his eyes and tried to regain the sound of her voice, the image of her eyes. It was fading. Were they green like his? What color was her hair? He whimpered. He could no longer hear the echo of her laughter as she called to him… even the memory of his name faded.

As more of the details of the dream slipped away he became aware that he was practically wrapped around Hawke, one leg and one arm thrown across his body. His tattoos were still glowing softly where their skin touched, bright enough he could see it through the blanket that covered them. The mage’s head was turned away, and he breathed softly as he slept. Unwilling to disturb him, Fenris was gentle as he extricated himself. He moved to the edge of the bed and wiped at the tears that were slipping silently down his cheeks. He took a ragged breath and tried to calm down. The more he tried to grasp at the dream the less he remembered. 

Abruptly he stood, and began to dress in the clothing and armor discarded haphazardly on the floor. His mind raced. Why now? Why this memory? It had been almost a decade since he’d received his markings and no memory had ever surfaced. A thought occurred to him and he froze. His memories had been erased by magic. Could it be magic that was bringing them back? He turned to stare at Hawke. He’d spent hours pressed against him, buzzing warmly from the flow of the mage’s magic through the lines of lyrium. 

But the memories had faded. Would it always be like that? Horror swept over him at the thought of dreaming his memories every night, but having them fade when he awoke. He closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d go mad. 

He finished dressing. Pulling on his gauntlets, he looked around. His eyes fell on the red silk shirt Hawke had been wearing last night. He picked it up and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. The cloth had rips in it from his gauntlets gripping it before it had been removed. Knowing it was already ruined, he tore a strip from the hem. Using his teeth, he knotted it around his wrist. 

Hawke’s teasing voice came from the bed behind him. “Sneaking out before morning? Without saying goodbye? I feel so used.” 

Fenris spun to find Hawke sitting up in bed, looking at him with a crooked smile that did little to hide the worry in his eyes. “Gabe,” he said in surprise. “I-“ he faltered to a stop, unsure what to say.

“Was it that bad?” Hawke asked. 

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said. “It’s not… It was fine.” He could have kicked himself when Hawke’s smile faded. Desperately he continued. “No, that is insufficient.” He stared at the mage intently, willing him to believe his next words. “It was better than anything I could have dreamed.” 

Hawke tilted his head, his struggle to understand what was going on evident. “Then what’s wrong? Was it strange being with a man? Did I hurt you?” His smile returned. “It can be a lot to take in,” he teased.

Fenris shook his head, and reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “It’s not that,” he answered, ignoring the innuendo. “I began to remember,” he explained. “My life before. Just flashes….” He stopped when he felt his voice begin to shake. He started pacing. “It’s too much. This is too fast. I cannot… do this.”

“You remembered?” Hawke asked hopefully. “What do you mean?”

Fenris stopped pacing and stared into the fire. “There were faces… words.” He struggled again to bring them back. Childish laughter echoed in his mind, then faded like wisps of fog in the morning sun. “For just a moment, when I woke from the dream I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away,” he said in anguish.

“But that’s good,” Hawke said, his excitement brought him up from the bed where he stood nude before the elf. He tried to reach out and touch Fenris, but he pulled back when the elf recoiled. “Don’t you want to remember?” he asked in surprise.

Fenris backed away a few steps. “Perhaps you don’t realize how upsetting this is,” he said. His voice was shaking, but he couldn’t control it. “I’ve never remembered anything from before the ritual, and to have it all come back, only to lose it…” He clenched his hands into fists and stared down at them. “I can’t,” his voice broke on a sob. He looked into Hawke’s worried eyes. “I can’t.”

Hawke tried to reach for him again, but Fenris pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy. Just for a little while, but…” He closed his eyes in the face of the mage’s pain, hating himself for once again hurting this man who had given him so much. “Forgive me,” he whispered. He turned and walked out of the room.

Despite himself he paused at the bottom of the stairs, hoping Hawke would follow him. He turned to look up at the doorway to the mage’s bedroom. A minute passed, and he realized what he was doing. He’d hurt Hawke more than once now, and with his sometimes unguarded comments about mages, he knew he would continue to do so. He had to end this now. For both of them.

He walked out of the Hawke estate and looked up at the sky. It was some time near dawn. He wanted very badly to get drunk, but he knew he had finished off the last of the wine from Danarius’ cellar. He turned deliberately toward Lowtown and The Hanged Man. He was unsurprised to find that it was still packed, many people celebrating the end of the work week by wasting their money on liquor. 

Isabela stood at her usual spot at the bar, teasing Corff. She looked at Fenris in surprise when he walked up next to her. “You look like you’ve been dragged by the ankles through the Void,” she said.

“That’s an accurate description of how I feel,” he grumbled.

“Corff,” Isabela called. “Give me your finest bottle. The real one.” She plunked a few sovereigns on the bar when the bartender handed her a bottle of aged Ferelden whiskey and two tumblers. “Come on,” she said to Fenris, and led the way to the private room she kept upstairs. “Let’s get you too wasted to remember what’s bothering you.” 

His heart clenched at the irony of knowing that forgetting might actually make him feel better this time. “Just don’t ask me any questions,” he said.

She eyed him with a touch of concern. “Deal,” she said. “But we’re going to play the underwear guessing game and if I get it right, you have to tell me.”

Fenris smiled darkly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “By the way, you owe Hawke five sovereigns.” The shocked look on her face was worth having to dodge the questions she’d promised not to ask him as they worked their way through the bottle of whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sound of his voice as he's explaining to Hawke about his memories nearly breaks my heart every time I hear it!
> 
> Fair warning friends: I'm about to turn the angst knob up to 11. Bear with me though... I promise there will be a happy ending :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gives Fenris a piece of his mind.

Anders stormed into Fenris’ mansion a week later. With an angry wave of his staff, he disabled all the traps in the main hall with a shockwave of force magic. Stalking to the bottom of the stairs, he’d started shouting for the elf to show himself.

“What in the name of Andraste’s arse have you done?” he demanded when Fenris appeared in the doorway of his room. 

Faint lines of blue glowed through cracks in the healer’s skin, but his eyes remained caramel colored to Fenris’ relief. He didn’t relish facing Justice’s wrath. He’d seen the spirit tear a room full of Templars into drippy pieces and he didn’t want to be the spirit’s target any time soon. 

Fenris walked out of his room, making an effort to keep his balance. A nearly empty bottle of cheap wine dangled from his fingers. “What do you want, mage?” he growled.

“Leandra came to find me. Apparently Hawke hasn’t left his room for a week. She was worried he was sick,” Anders said accusingly. 

“Is he all right?” Fenris asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

“No, he’s not blighted all right!” Anders shouted. “He was pissed drunk, and I’m pretty sure he had been for days. When he saw me he started crying. Crying! Hawke! It took me forever to get him to calm down enough to eat something. He won’t tell me what’s wrong. It was Bodahn who finally told me of your visit. So now I want to know what you did to him.”

Fenris sat down on the top stair and put his face in his free hand. He’d never seen Hawke anything other than cheerful. He’d hoped the mage would snap back to his normal snarky self like he did so many other times. The alcohol he’d consumed burned in his stomach, and it was all he could do to keep it down. The memory of Hawke’s face when he spoke of his sister’s death, or his reaction to Carver joining the Templars floated through his mind. He’d never seen Hawke break down completely before though. _I did this to him_ , he thought bitterly. _And I can’t promise myself I wouldn’t hurt him again. Leaving him was for the best._ “I ended things between us,” he rasped quietly.

Anders stepped back in surprise. “Oh,” he said. 

When the mage didn’t say anything for a moment Fenris lowered his hand and glared at him. “Well?” he growled. “Shouldn’t you go running after him yourself?”

“I should,” Anders said. “Maker knows, I want to. He deserves better than a wild dog like you.”

Fenris snorted. “Hypocrite.”

“Me?” Anders said bitingly. “What happened to ‘all mages can rot’? Do not speak to me of hypocrisy.” 

Fenris grunted, and stood up. He swigged down the remaining wine, nearly falling backwards as he lost his balance. When it was empty he tossed it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. He attempted to walk back to his room. “Go away Anders,” he grumbled. 

“Andraste wept. You’re drunk too, aren’t you?” Anders asked, the glow fading from his skin. He sighed in resignation. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Fenris didn’t answer. He’d stumbled against the doorframe on his way back to his room and he was staring at the floor, wishing it would stop spinning. After a moment he felt the mage’s arms come around his shoulder to help him to his bed. 

“I can't decide who the bigger idiot is. Hawke for loving you, you for not accepting it, or me for caring,” Anders said under his breath. Fenris tripped and nearly took both of them to the floor. "Definitely me," he decided.

"I don't need your help," Fenris grumbled.

Anders snorted. "I could let you drink yourself to death, but I am terrified of watching Hawke break down again."

He badgered the elf into eating and left him a carafe of water on a table near the bed. When he was sure Fenris wouldn’t die of alcohol poisoning, he turned to leave. He paused at the door and looked at the elf sadly. “Whatever happened between you… is it worth this?”

Fenris didn’t answer. He turned his head to the wall and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he heard the mage sigh, and leave the mansion. 

 

For months, Fenris didn't leave his home unless absolutely neccessary. Varric and Isabella showed up often and badgered him into getting out. He did allow the pirate to drag him along several times on her searches for her missing relic, but he outright refused any of the jobs Varric tried to talk him into. He didn't need employment. He still had a hefty sum of gold left from his share of the Deep Roads treasure. 

To his surprise Aveline and Donnic came to check in on him as well. Apparently they had become intimate recently, and the story of Aveline's inept courtship was incredibly entertaining. Donnic became a regular visitor and several nights a week they would play Diamondback.

He couldn’t avoid Hawke forever of course. The mage eventually did show up at his home, asking for Fenris’ assistance at a meeting with the Arishok. Still unable to say no when Hawke asked him for help, he had agreed. 

They were joined by Aveline and Varric today. The dwarf was drilling Aveline with questions about her new relationship with Donnic, undeterred by her attempts at deflection. 

Beside him, Hawke spoke. “So, Fenris… we, uh… we haven’t spoken since…” his voice trailed off uncertainly.

“Do you wish to do this here?” Fenris asked. “In front of everyone?”

Hawke chuckled. “Kinky.”

Fenris jerked his head to look at Hawke. “That wasn’t… ugh. Nevermind.” He turned away from the mage with a roll of his eyes. “Why does the Viscount send you on these diplomatic excursions with the Arishok?”

“Maybe he thinks I’ll sway him with my charm and good looks?” Hawke quipped. 

“Or maybe he’s hoping he’ll kill you and solve half of Kirkwall’s problems,” Fenris replied. When Hawke didn’t reply right away, he turned to look at the mage again.

Hawke smiled sadly. “I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” Fenris admitted quietly.

Hawke put out a hand, motioning for him to stop without touching his skin. They both paused in the busy streets of Lowtown, surrounded by people, yet Fenris felt as if they were standing alone. Aveline and Varric hadn’t noticed they had stopped and walked on ahead.

“I know this is the worst place for this conversation,” Hawke said. “But…” he paused, his face twisted as he tried to find words. “I can’t pretend to understand why you left, but I would like to still be friends. I promise, I won’t pressure you into anything, I just-“

Fenris stopped him with a wave of his gauntleted hand and a shake of his head. “Alright,” he said simply.

Hawke sighed in relief. “Alright,” he agreed.

Together they turned and walked swiftly to catch up with their friends. Fenris noticed Hawke’s cheerful smile was back in place, and he felt an answering twitch in his own lips.

“So,” Varric said to him when they caught up. “You and Hawke?”

Fenris looked down at the dwarf with a frown. “What about us?”

“I want to make sure I get all the details right when I tell this story. Did he sweep you off your feet?” Varric paused and tilted his head as he considered the elf. “I’m assuming he did the sweeping. He’s taller than you. Awkward, otherwise.”

Fenris met Hawke’s amused eyes over the dwarf’s head. “Did Isabela tell you?” he asked.

“I never reveal my sources,” Varric said, his eyes twinkling. 

Fenris groaned. Isabela had eventually gotten him drunk enough to tell her what was wrong. He felt his ears heat up as he flushed with embarrassment. “I’m not telling you anything but this,” he said. “There was no actual sweeping involved.”

Varric chuckled and patted him on the arm. “Every little bit helps, elf.”

“You’ll just make up whatever you want,” Fenris accused.

“Of course I will,” Varric said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this wasn't planned, but I kept hearing Anders yelling at Fenris in my head. So here you go.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leandra recieves white lilies.

Fenris was reading the book Hawke had given him when he heard his front door slam open, and Hawke’s panicked voice calling to him from the foyer. He jumped up and rushed out to stand on the landing over the main hall. The mage’s hair was mussed badly as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his eyes were slightly wild. Fenris had never seen him so out of sorts. “Hawke, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s Mother,” Hawke said. “She received some white lilies from a suitor, and now she’s missing.”

Fenris felt his stomach flip sickeningly. They’d been seeing women come up missing for years, and always they received white lilies just before their disappearance. “I’ll be right down,” he promised. He went back in his room and quickly strapped on his armor and his sword. He took the stairs two at a time as he hurried down to meet Hawke who barely waited for the elf to reach his side before he turned to stalk quickly out of the mansion. “Tell me what you know,” Fenris said.

“She was supposed to meet Gamlen, but she never showed up. He came to my estate to see where she was. Bodahn told us about the lilies.” They were walking at a quick pace towards Lowtown, and Fenris had to half jog to keep up with the taller man’s strides. 

“It’s dark out,” Fenris pointed out. “How long has she been missing?”

“All day,” Hawke said. 

“Do we have a plan?” 

“I am going to go find Gascard,” Hawke said.

Fenris stopped and stared at Hawke’s back in shock for a moment. He had to run a few steps to catch up. “The blood mage?” he asked. “Why? He can’t be trusted.”

Hawke shook his head. “I know that,” he snapped. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

Fenris decided not to argue. Hawke was right; Gascard DuPuis was their only lead. 

Fortunately, they didn’t have to find the blood mage. On their way through Lowtown, they found Gamlen questioning a boy in the street. 

“I told you already,” the boy said. “I saw her!”

“Did you see where?” Gamlen demanded.

A calculated gleam entered the boy’s eyes when he realized how desperate Gamlen was for information. “What do I get for telling you?”

Hawke and Fenris walked up in time to hear the question. Without hesitation, the mage handed the boy some silver. His eyes wide at the small pile of glittering coins in his hands, the boy told them what he’d seen. She’d helped an injured man to the foundry a few blocks away. 

“For once, I find myself irritated with my mother’s good heart,” Hawke moaned.

Once Hawke realized where he needed to go, he’d broken into a run. Fenris caught him by the arm and stopped him. The mage tried to pull away angrily, but the elf held on. “We need reinforcements,” he said urgently. “If the killer really has her, we shouldn’t go alone. DuPuis said this man is dangerous. We’re right around the corner from The Hanged Man. Let’s see if Varric is there.” 

He was thankful when Hawke nodded in acceptance. Luckily Varric was there, along with Anders. Both agreed to join them when they heard what was going on. 

“Haven’t we been here before?” Varric asked when they walked into the foundry the boy had directed them to. He winced. “Dammit, that sounded ominous. Forget I said anything.”

Fenris looked around. This was the same place they’d found the fingerbones of that Orlesian’s missing wife. A chill ran down his spine and he whispered a plea for the Maker’s mercy in Arcanum. He wasn’t a believer, but when he saw the strained look on Hawke’s face he hoped that some higher power was listening. When they found the trap door, surrounded by dried blood, his heart sank. When they were attacked by shades and rage demons what little hope he had shrank into a small cold kernel in his chest. 

When they found Leandra, he knew there was no such thing as a miracle. 

 

Fenris stood at the top of the stairs and stared at the door to Hawke’s room. Downstairs, the mage’s companions were drinking and sharing stories about the woman who’d been a fixture in all their lives since they’d met her son. Merrill was softly singing a song of mourning in Dalish. He was loath to admit it, but he found the tune comforting. At first he’d felt anger that the tiny blood mage had dared to show up when Hawke’s mother had been murdered by blood magic, but hearing her sing now he felt a softening toward her. She may be naïve, and played with dangerous magics, but he couldn’t see her doing something as despicable as what Quentin had done to Leandra. 

The funeral had been a simple affair with only close friends invited. Leandra’s friends were mostly nobles, but even Lirene and a few other Fereldan refugees had made an appearance. 

Through it all, Fenris had watched Hawke for some sign of emotion. There had been nothing though, and the elf was worried. He’d kept to the shadows through the whole reception, so slipping away unnoticed had been easy. Actually entering the room before him was not. 

He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and reached out to turn the handle. Silently he slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind him. Hawke was sitting on the edge of his bed staring down at his mother’s locket in his hands. He was absently flicking it open and closed, and didn’t seem to notice Fenris had entered the room.

“I don’t know what to say,” Fenris said quietly. “But I am here.”

Hawke didn’t look up. “Do you know if your mother is still alive?” he asked in a voice empty of anything but mild curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Fenris said. “If so, I have not met her since my memories were erased.” He walked over and gingerly sat down next to Hawke. They sat in silence for several minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said finally. “It must be hard for you to not know of your family.”

Fenris stared at the mage’s profile in surprise. Even in his own misery Hawke still thought of the elf’s feelings. He opened his mouth in another attempt to offer condolences, but closed it when nothing came to mind. He didn’t believe in filling these moments with empty words. Hawke did not seem uncomfortable with the silence however, so Fenris stayed and hoped that his presence could convey the comfort he wished to give. 

“Do you think DuPuis knew about this?” Hawke asked, an edge of emotion in his voice.

Fenris shrugged. “I cannot say,” he answered. “But we could…. Ask him.”

Hawke finally looked at him. Fenris was relieved to see the anger in his face. The emotionless mask the mage had been wearing was lifting, and that had to be a good sign 

“Let’s do that,” Hawke said in a dangerous voice.

Fenris nodded his acceptance. He stood and turned to walk to the door, but Hawke’s voice stopped him.

“Not that way,” he said. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

Fenris raised a curious brow when Hawke used a hidden mechanism and the wardrobe next to his bed swung forward silently on well oiled hinges. Hawke held his hand up and a small blue ball of flame floated above his palm to light the way as they entered the dark space and followed the cramped passage down into the cellars. 

“Convenient,” Fenris said when the passage ended.

“That door over there opens right outside Anders’ clinic,” Hawke replied.

“Does he know?” Fenris asked, thinking darkly of how easy it would be for the abomination to access Hawke’s home.

“I gave him a key in case he needs to escape from the Templars,” Hawke replied, oblivious to Fenris’ jealousy. “As far as I know, he hasn’t had to use it yet.”

Although the beggers and thieves of the Undercity eyed the human and the elf greedily as they walked through the filthy tunnels, they were not accosted. Hawke’s previously blank expression grew blacker and more fierce as they made their way to the other end of Darktown where Gascard DuPuis kept his hideout. The blood mage was easy to find. He was just returning to his den after visiting the black market.

“Hawke!” he said in a nervous voice when he spotted the mage. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for an escape route, but found none. “I uh… heard about your mother. I’m really sorry.”

Hawke exploded. “It’s your fault she’s dead!” he shouted, getting right in the blood mage’s face. “You knew Quentin all along! You could have helped me stop this!” Flickers of lighting crawled over Hawke’s body as he temporarily lost control of his power. 

Gascard backed up a step. “I had no idea he’d go after your mother!”

“Fenris?” Hawke asked quietly. He stepped back a few paces to give the elf room.

Fenris nodded in silent understanding. The tattoos on his body lit up as he stepped forward. Quentin gasped in shock and tried to back away further, but he came up against the stone wall behind him. His head whipped from side to side as he searched in vain for someone to call to for help, but at the first sign of conflict the local residents had disappeared into their shadows and bolt holes. Fenris phased his hand and slid his fingers into the blood mage’s chest and wrapped his clawed fingers around his madly beating heart. Letting his fingers become solid again, he held it loosely in his hand. 

Gascard tried to scream, but could only make strangled grunts and whimpers.

“That pain you feel is just the beginning, mage,” Fenris growled. He gave a small squeeze, and then loosened his grip enough for the blood mage to speak.

“What do you want from me?” he gasped. He screamed when Fenris squeezed again. “Yes!” he squeezed out through bloodless lips. “I lied! I knew Quentin from the start…”

Phasing his hand again, Fenris pulled free and let the blood mage drop. Gascard lay trembling and gasping for breath at their feet. The smell of fresh urine filled the air to join the general stink of Darktown. After a few moments he started babbling about how he experimented with Necromancy and how he wanted to learn from the man who had murdered Hawke’s mother. 

Hawke’s lips twisted in disgust, and he pulled a dagger from his belt. When Gascard caught the glint of steel, he scrambled backwards but found himself up against the wall again, with no escape. “Killing me won’t bring your mother back!” he cried out in desperation.

“It won’t bring her back,” Hawke growled. “But it will make me feel better.” 

Fenris watched as Hawke jammed the blade into Gascard’s diaphragm, causing the blood mage’s lungs to seize but not killing him immediately. He leaned down and put his face very close to the other man’s. “Don’t worry,” he said in a low, dangerous voice the elf had never heard him use before. “As painful as this is, you won’t last long. Just be grateful that I’m showing you more mercy than my mother received.” Hawke stood up straight and stared down at the dying blood mage. He watched for several minutes as Gascard tried desperately to take in a breath, but his lungs couldn’t move and it only took a few minutes for him to suffocate.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris comforts Hawke.

When Gascard’s eyes finally went dull with death, Hawke let out a long sigh. He tilted his head back on his shoulders and closed his eyes. “Is it wrong for that to have felt good?” Hawke whispered.

“I may not be the right person to ask,” Fenris said, remembering how it felt to punch his fist through Hadriana’s chest. 

Hawke brought his head down and turned to Fenris, a shadow of his usual smile hovering around his lips. “Perhaps,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Will you be all right?” Fenris asked in concern.

Hawke started walking slowly back towards the entrance to his estate. Instead of answering he asked a question of his own. “Do you think Carver was right? When he blamed me for Mother’s death?”

The ugly scene from earlier in the night flashed in Fenris’ memory and he scowled. Carver was way out of line for accusing Hawke of being careless, especially in front of all the funeral guests. “Of course not,” he said sharply. “How could you have prevented this?”

“I could have listened to that old Templar Emeric,” Hawke began.

Fenris cut him off. “No! Do not question yourself. Quentin covered his tracks too well.” 

Hawke shook his head and opened his mouth to argue. Unwilling to let the mage continued, Fenris grabbed a fistful of his jerkin and pulled him down into a kiss. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, the elf slid his tongue inside Hawke’s mouth. Electricity began to spark through the tattoos under his mouth, and the sensation made his mind go blank. 

It only took a few seconds for Hawke to start returning the kiss in earnest. He wrapped his hands around Fenris’ upper arms and pulled him closer. The bare skin of his palms slid over the tattoos exposed by the elf’s vest, making both of them groan as magic passed between them. 

Hawke pulled away, breathless. “Why did you do that?” he asked hoarsely.

Fenris blinked to clear the fog from his brain. Why had he done that? “You were speaking nonsense,” he rasped. 

“You could have just told me to shut the void up.”

Fenris dropped his eyes to stare at Hawke’s mouth. “Would you have listened to me?” he asked. 

“Good point,” Hawke agreed. “What now?” 

Fenris let go of Hawke’s jerkin and stepped back. When Hawke let go of his arms, the lack of tingling in his tattoos left him feeling empty. “We should go back to your estate before the others discover we are gone and are worried.”

Hawke nodded silently and led the way. When they reached his room they both noticed the house was silent. Fenris walked to the door to Hawke’s bedroom and opened the door to find the main hall empty. A note had been stuffed in the doorjamb, and it fluttered down to land on top of his foot. He picked it up and squinted at it.

See you two love-birds later! I kicked everyone out so you can have some alone time. ~Isabela

“Varric and Isabela are probably making up stories as we speak,” Hawke said, having read the note over Fenris’ shoulder.

Fenris shook his head. “Wonderful,” he said. He turned to find Hawke staring at him sadly. “I… should go,” he muttered.

“Please stay,” Hawke whispered.

Fenris stepped back from the mage. “I… can’t.”

Hawke’s expression darkened. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You can. Stop being a coward.”

Fenris swallowed and took another step back. “You don’t understand-“

“You’re fucking right I don’t understand!” Hawke shouted. He threw up his hands in frustration and turned away from the elf to go stand before the fireplace. He laced his fingers and rested his hands on top of his head. “If I’d lost my memories, I’d reach for any chance to get them back, but you’re running from it.”

Fenris clenched his fists angrily. “You can say that because you don’t know what it was like to feel them fade!”

Hawke dropped his hands and twisted around to pin him with a stare. “I can barely remember what Bethany looks like,” he growled. “So don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like. At least for you it happened quickly. Every day I realize the picture of her in my mind is getting less real, and I’ve been dealing with this for five damned years!” 

Fenris froze in shock. “I’m sorry,” he said on an exhale.

“Go to the Void, Fenris.”

The elf took a tentative step forward. “You never speak of her.”

“If you’re going to leave, then go,” Hawke said angrily.

“No,” Fenris said with a shake of his head. “Tell me about her.”

Hawke let out a threatening growl, and stalked toward the smaller man. “Get the fuck out,” he said. “I don’t want to talk. I want to be alone.”

Fenris held his ground. Hawke came to a stop right in front of him, and the elf had to tip his head back to look into those angry whiskey eyes. “Tell me what she looked like.”

As Hawke stared down at him, the anger in his face slowly faded to anguish. “Black hair… sky blue eyes, like Carver’s. She had Mother’s nose.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. “She had the perfect face for pouting, and she’d use that against me every time Mother made cookies. I could never resist giving her half of my share.”

“What kind of cookies?” Fenris asked, genuinely curious.

With his eyes still closed, Hawke answered. “Ginger snaps. Mother made amazing ginger snaps. We’d be outside playing, and we could smell them baking.” He opened his eyes and stared down at Fenris. “After Bethany died, Mother didn’t make them for years. We were living here by the time she finally did. Bodahn nearly had a heart attack when she invaded his kitchen.”

Unable to stop himself, Fenris reached up and because he was still wearing his gauntlets, very carefully brushed the black hair back from Hawke’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Gabe” he said again.

Hawke reached up and grasped Fenris’ hand, pressing it closer to his face. His eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Thank you for making me remember her again.” When he leaned forward Fenris, held still and allowed the mage to kiss him.

The kiss was gentle and hesitant. When he realized Fenris wouldn’t pull away this time, Hawke deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue in the elf’s mouth with a groan. He reached out behind Fenris and pushed the door closed. 

Fenris pulled his hand away from where Hawke still gripped it and pulled the gauntlets from his hands. While he removed his armor, Hawke slipped both of his hands into his white hair, holding his face so that he couldn’t break the kiss if wanted to. Fenris was glad he was wearing a button down shirt so he could pull it off without letting their mouths separate. When he wore only his leggings he started working on Hawke’s clothing as well. 

Finally they moved apart so Hawke could pull his tunic over his head. “Does this mean you’re staying?” he asked teasingly as the cloth pulled free from his face. He dropped the shirt to the floor next to him, and started backing toward the bed.

Fenris glanced down at himself. “Well I’m not dressed properly to go out,” he said with a wry smile. He stepped free of the pile of clothing and armor and followed Hawke to the bed. He placed a hand against the mage’s chest and pushed him until he sat on the edge of the bed, then he knelt down to help him remove his boots. 

A memory of doing this for Danarius floated through his thoughts and he pushed it back angrily. He wouldn’t allow that bastard to ruin this.

“Why are you frowning?” Hawke asked in concern.

Fenris looked up, and smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing.” Thankfully Hawke didn’t push for an answer this time. After removing his boots, Fenris moved to the tie of his trousers and the mage reclined back on the bed and lifted his hips so they could be pulled free.

Standing, Fenris stared down at the man lying before him. He admired the lightly haired body with a small smile, making Hawke’s member twitch when his gaze lingered there. Placing his hands on either side of the mage’s hips, Fenris leaned down and ran his tongue from the base all the way to the head where he slipped his lips around it and suckled gently. 

Hawke’s hand came up and cupped the back of his head. His fingers were shaking, as if he was trying to resist the urge to pull him down until he was buried balls deep in the elf’s mouth. Fenris bobbed teasingly, but never took more than a few inches into his mouth. 

“Tease,” Hawke groaned after a few minutes of that torture. 

Fenris rewarded him by quickly sliding down until he couldn’t take anymore. Breathing through his nose he tried hard not to gag at the unfamiliar girth stroking the back of his throat. Hawke let out a string of curses and Fenris chuckled, making the mage go rock hard in his mouth. He pulled away quickly, not wanting the moment to end yet. He teased and stroked and sucked, bringing Hawke close several times before backing off. 

“Please,” Hawke whimpered. “Let me touch you too.”

Fenris stood straight again and Hawke sat up and wrapped his arms around his waist. He ran his hands up and down the elf’s back, over his buttocks, and down the back of his thighs, making the tattoos glow wherever their skin touched. Tilting his head down, he ran his tongue over the head of Fenris’ erection where precum was beading. 

“Gabe,” Fenris whispered after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“Lay back down. Please,” he rasped. 

Hawke did as he asked, but only after one last lick. He propped his hands behind his head and watched as Fenris grabbed the bottle of oil and poured some into his palm. The elf rubbed his hands together and then wrapped them both around Hawke, stroking until it was slick. Then he let go with one hand and began to spread the remaining oil on himself. He stroked with both hands, careful to stand so that Hawke could watch. 

The heavy lidded look the mage was giving him made him light headed, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He crawled up on the bed and straddled him. Very carefully he lowered himself until the mage’s cock filled him completely. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling.

“You’re so fucking sexy right now,” Hawke murmured. 

Fenris opened his eyes and smiled down at the man below him. Without a word he began to rock his hips and they both groaned together. Hawke grabbed his hip with one hand, and pushed up with his own hips, pulling himself deeper. His other hand wrapped around the elf’s member, stroking him in time with his thrusts. 

“I’m going to come,” Fenris whimpered, still staring into Hawke’s whiskey eyes.

“Yes,” Hawke said thickly.

Unwilling to look away, Fenris struggled to keep his eyes open as his orgasm swept through him. Hawke cried out when he felt the elf’s muscles clenched around him, also bringing him to his peak. He sat up suddenly, wrapped his free arm around Fenris and crushed their mouths together as he came, reveling in the slick slide of the elf’s seed between their bodies.

Fenris was glowing so brightly, he could see it through his own closed lids. Hawke was tracing his tongue over the markings on his chin lazily, and the elf didn’t want him to stop. He felt himself growing hard again inside the mage’s hand. 

Hawke chuckled against Fenris’ throat. “I can’t get enough either,” he whispered. 

Fenris’ eyes flew open as he felt Hawke hardening inside him again. He pulled back enough so that he could look into the mage’s eyes. “Again?” he rasped.

“Oh yes,” Hawke moaned, and captured the elf’s mouth in a desperate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was fun. :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Fenris spend some time together before larger matters eventually gain their attention.

_He laughed as he ran away from the older boy. “If you want it back, you need to catch me!” he called over his shoulder._

_Jodan growled and put on a burst of speed. “That’s my last apple Leto! I was saving it for something special."_

_Leto turned and skipped backward holding the apple behind his back. “Aren’t I special?”_

_Jodan wrapped his arms around the younger elf’s waist and tried to grab the apple. “Of course you are. But you didn’t earn it, I did.” They lost their balance in the fight over the bright red fruit and fell to the ground._

_Smaller and bendier, he managed to roll over onto his stomach under Jodan. He wriggled until the hand holding the apple was right in front of his face, and took a big bite out of it. Jodan cursed, and flipped him over onto his back. He grabbed the apple and looked at it angrily. “You’re going to pay for that.”_

_“What do you want?” he asked cheekily, after swallowing the juicy bite._

_Jodan smiled wickedly and leaned down. “How about a kiss?_

Warm lips pressed against his, and he responded hungrily. He slowly became aware that the fingers trailing over his skin were not part of the dream. Hawke's power tingled through each line of lyrium he touched. Fenris whimpered. The dream was fading. "No... Jodan. Please..." he whispered against Hawke's mouth.

Hawke pulled back slightly in surprise. "Who is Jodan?" he asked gently.

"It's fading," Fenris moaned. "I can't..."

Hawke held Fenris' face between his hands. "Quickly, tell me what you remember. Hold onto it."

"Brown hair, yellow eyes," Fenris said. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he concentrated. "Another slave... taller, older." He tried to hold on to the memory but it became fuzzier. He groaned. "I can't remember anymore. It's gone."

Hawke leaned forward and placed a kiss on Fenris' forehead. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I had hoped that trick you used on me would help you too."

Fenris frowned. While he couldn't remember the context of the dream, he could still see Jodan's face in his mind. "I- I- think... it did," he stuttered. He sat up, letting the covers fall down around his hips and looked down at Hawke who was propped on an elbow next to him. "I can still see him. I just don't remember who he is."

"Is that good or bad?" Hawke asked cautiously.

"It is an improvement," Fenris said. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Maybe. Venhedis! This is so frustrating.” One image. One face. But it was more than he had before.

Hawke ran his hand up and down Fenris' thigh comfortingly. "Tell me what I can do to help."

Fenris dropped his hands in his lap and looked at the mage whose bed he was now sharing. Painfully, he remembered waking up in Danarius or Hadriana’s beds, usually sore from abuse, sometimes starving, and always exhausted. This mage, who was growing more powerful every year, both in magic and influence in the city, only wanted to give him comfort. He never hesitated to give Fenris any assistance he ever asked for despite the fact that he knew the elf didn’t fully trust him. It felt disrespectful to compare Hawke to them, but as he shifted and felt only the pleasant soreness of a night filled with pleasure, he couldn’t help but appreciate the disparity. "I don't understand you," he said with a thoughtful frown.

Hawke lifted a brow in question. He waited patiently for the rest.

"I asked you once what kind of mage you are. What you sought," Fenris said.

"I remember. I told you to tag along with me and find out. Why do you mention it?"

Fenris shook his head. "I still do not know the answer."

Hawke's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well I guess that means you need to spend more time with me to figure me out."

Fenris suppressed a smile. "Perhaps." He narrowed his eyes at Hawke. “Although I must be mad to consider it. The last thing I want to do is keep company with a _mage_.”

A hurt look crossed the mage's face before he noticed the twitch of Fenris' lips. "Fenris, are you teasing me?" Hawke asked suspiciously.

A sultry smile spread across the elf's face. He shifted until he could lean across Hawke's chest, forcing him to lie back against the pillows. "Do you want me to?" He asked in a low rumble.

"Maker, yes."

…

They spent the next week together. Fenris alternated between joy and abject depression as Hawke attempted to help him hold on to his dreams. He would become angry and withdrawn when he failed. He'd feel even worse for taking it out on the mage, especially since Hawke was still in mourning for his mother.

For his part, Hawke just seemed happy to have Fenris nearby. His smile was often forced, but Fenris was proud of him for making the effort.

One night, Fenris woke to find himself alone in bed. Worried, he had slipped into one of Hawke’s robes and walked out into the hall. He’d eventually found the mage sitting on the floor with his back against the door of his mother’s bedroom. When he put his hand on Hawke’s shoulder, he’d blinked up at the elf and smiled sleepily. When he held his arms open, Fenris had sat down on the floor between his legs, back to chest. They’d fallen asleep together there and both woke the next morning stiff and sore, but Hawke’s smile that day was more genuine than it had been for days.

Tonight, Fenris was awake, reading the book Hawke had given him by Shartan. He was sitting up against the headboard with Hawke’s head pillowed low on his stomach. He held the book in one hand, and stroked the sleeping mage’s hair with the other. He had read the book several times, and it made him feel stronger when he wondered if running from Danarius had been wise. He would never admit those doubts to anyone, barely even acknowledging them in his own mind.

He set the book aside and closed his eyes, enjoying the tingle in his tattoos. If anyone other than a mage touched him their aura slipped into the lyrium, but it was faint in comparison. Hawke’s power seemed to dim when he was asleep, making the electric tingle less intense. He felt his eyes droop, and he struggled to stay awake a little longer to enjoy the peace he currently felt, but it was a losing battle.

_Tears slipped down his face as he was pushed face down on the bed and penetrated suddenly and painfully. He hadn’t expected this. Could not have known. His inexperienced fantasies about Jodan didn’t prepare him for being used like this._

_“That’s right, take me deeper,” Danarius rasped. “I’m going to fill you up, my precious boy… My little wolf.”_

Fenris recoiled, fully awake now. Desperate to escape the dream, he flailed his limbs and pulled away from the warm body next to him. With a thud he fell off the edge of the bed, taking the blankets with him. He scrambled backwards until his back was pressed against the wall next to the window. He was breathing as if he’d been running, and his wild eyes flicked around the room in confusion as he tried to separate what he was seeing from the opulent scented room from the dream.

“Fenris?” Hawke had sat up immediately when the elf had started to struggle against him. Warily he got up and walked over to where Fenris sat shaking in horror. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Was it a nightmare?”

“A memory,” Fenris gasped, unable to focus. It was already starting to fade but the knowledge that he’d relived a part of his past again while asleep was bright in his mind. He flinched away when Hawke tried to touch him.

Hawke knelt in front of him. “Tell me what you remember.”

“No!” Fenris yelled. Seeing Hawke’s confusion he elaborated. “No. It was not… it was something I do not wish to remember.” He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a ragged sigh. “It’s gone, but I feel… unclean.”

Hawke moved as if to touch him again, but a commotion from the main hall caused them both to turn toward the bedroom door. Familiar voices could be heard arguing.

“Is that Isabela?” Fenris said with a frown. Suddenly he noticed the sunlight seeping between the drapes. It was morning already.

“And Aveline,” Hawke said. He looked at Fenris. “I’d better see what they want.” The mage stood up and pulled a robe and some loose trousers on. “Are you all right?” he asked in concern. Only once he received a nod of assurance from the elf did he leave the room.

Fenris stayed where he was on the floor for a few minutes. When he felt calm again he got up to dress. Bodahn had retrieved some of his clothes for him, but he had spent most of the week wearing Hawke’s much larger clothing. He found it comfortable, and the admiring looks he received from the mage encouraged him to keep wearing them. He pulled on a clean pair of trousers from Hawke’s wardrobe, and pulled the drawstrings tight so they wouldn’t slip down over his narrow hips.

When he walked out and stood on the landing over the main hall, Isabella and Aveline were arguing with each other. Apparently Isabela had found out where her relic was and said it might help Aveline deal with the Qunari.

The pirate was the first to notice him. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in an O of surprise. She looked him slowly up and down in admiration. Fenris crossed his arms over his chest and couldn’t suppress his smirk. It was always enjoyable striking her speechless.

Aveline and Hawke turned to look up at him when they noticed where Isabela’s attention was. The Guard Captain blushed slightly and greeted him with a nod, which he returned.

Hawke grinned at him widely. “Fenris, we’re going to find Isabela’s relic. Are you in?”

“Of course,” Fenris agreed with a nod.

Isabela finally snapped her mouth shut. She gave Hawke a wicked grin. “Oh you are one lucky Dog Lord. How do you feel about sharing?”

Hawke’s delighted laugh was like a warm breeze after a long winter, and Fenris smiled in response. It was good to hear the mage’s humor again.

 

[Artwork by Syberfag](http://syberfag.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of a tough spot in the story for me. I know where I want to go with this, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to get there. Updates may be a little slower while I figure it out. I commissioned the art from syberfag.tumblr.com


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela has taken off with her relic, and Hawke confronts the Arishok.

“So tell me, Hawke. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found,” the Arishok rumbled. “How would you see this conflict resolved without it?”

A commotion from the back of the Viscount’s throne room brought everyone’s attention around. Fenris raised his eyebrows in shock as he watched Isabela knock out a Qunari warrior and stride forward with a very large book under one arm. This, he had not expected.

“I believe I can answer that,” Isabela said as she strolled forward confidently.

Fenris felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. _Very brave_ , he thought to himself. _Stupid, but brave_. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Anders murmured in surprise. 

Varric nodded. “This should be interesting.”

Hawke glanced at them. He had a crooked smile on his face, but he waved them to silence. Fenris wondered how the mage could possibly find humor in such a situation. Half the city was wrecked, people were dying in the streets. Meredith now knew Hawke was a mage, and that put Carver in danger as well for not reporting him. Yet, somehow he still smiled. 

“The Tome of Koslun,” the Arishok breathed reverently. “The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen.” He turned and pinned Isabela with his blank stare that somehow conveyed more threat for his lack of expression. “With the thief.” 

“What?” The smug smile Isabela had been wearing dropped and the blood drained from her face. 

Aveline took a step forword. “Oh no no no. If anyone kicks her ass, it’s me.”

Fenris gave Isabela a stern look. “Did you really expect to get away with stranding them here for four years?” he asked gruffly. He didn’t want them to take her, but this was partially her fault and she needed to be aware of the consequences.

“She stole the Tome of Koslun,” the Arishok said. “She must return with us.”

Hawke shook his head. “You have your relic. She stays with us.”

Fenris closed his eyes and groaned. He knew Hawke would protect her, but the glare on the Arishok’s face did not bode well. 

“I’m sure he’ll take that well,” Varric muttered. He grabbed Isabela’s arm and pulled her back a few feet, out of range of the Arishok’s reach. “Move a bit this way Rivaini.”

Fully expecting to be attacked, Hawke’s companians all reached for their weapons. To their surprise, the Arishok didn’t give the order. Instead he challenged Hawke to a duel, and promised that his people would leave the city if Hawke won, on the condition that if he lost, Isabela would go with the Qunari. 

“No!” Anders said urgently. “Look at him Hawke. He’ll tear you apart.”

Fenris glared at the abomination. “If he says no, the Qunari will tear the whole city apart.”

“I believe in you Hawke,” Merrill chirped from behind Varric. She smiled timidly at Anders when he glared at her. 

Hawke’s smile had faded. “I accept your challenge,” he said solemnly.

Isabela grabbed his arm. “No! You can’t do this for me. I should duel him.”

The Arishok growled. “You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy.”

Hawke put his hands on Isabela’s shoulders. “I’ve made my decision,” he said, his eyes serious. “I expect you to respect the outcome.” Looking around at the rest of his friends, he pinned each of them with his stare. “That goes for all of you.”

Anders opened his mouth to object again. Fenris wrapped his gauntleted hand around the mage’s upper arm, and shook his head when their eyes met. Anders snapped his mouth shut angrily, but didn’t speak.

They were herded up onto the balcony area by the Qunari, along with the nobles. Fenris tried to keep his breathing even as he watched Hawke and the Arishok face off with each other. The mage always made him feel small despite the fact that he was tall for an elf, but the Arishok made Hawke look small and vulnerable. Fragile. 

The fight started without any ceremony. The Arishok charged Hawke, nearly catching him by surprise, but the mage dodged. He spent several minutes just avoiding attack, watching the Qunari carefully to learn his fighting style. When a nearby noble grumbled something about cowardice, Fenris turned on him with an angry snarl. The noble blanched and backed away several steps. Pushing his anger down, the elf turned back to watch the duel. 

Hawke finally attacked with a fireball which the Arishok deflected with his large double bladed axe. He managed to duck away from a lightning bolt despite his surprise. He glared angrily at the mage. “Bas-Saarebas,” he growled in accusation.

Hawke smiled jauntily. “Saarebas… Dog Lord… annoying prick who talks too much. Why do people keep forgetting my name?”

Aveline groaned. “I can’t believe he just said that.”

“Remind me to get the story behind that when this is all over,” Varric said.

Below them, the fighting began in earnest. Hawke could never hope to defeat the Arishok in close combat, so he kept feinting and dodging. It was difficult for him to cast spells because he’d have to dodge some attacks before he could complete the incantations. Fortunately, he got off enough spells that the Arishok was starting to slow down from his injuries. His pale skin was scorched in several places, and he’d dropped one of his weapons when it was hit by a bolt of electricity. 

The mage was not unscathed however. He’d been unable to dodge some attacks, and as the fight continued he began to show signs of exhaustion as his mana drained. Eventually the Arishok slammed him into a pillar, and they had all heard a sickening crunch. Hawke freed himself with a mind blast, but now his arm was bent at an odd angle, and he was limping badly. 

The hand holding his staff glowed green, but before Hawke could heal himself the Arishok charged again. This time he was unable to dodge completely and he was knocked to the floor. He managed to roll out of the way of the huge axe as the Arishok swung it down, but he couldn’t scramble away in time to avoid a second blow. The blade swept down and sliced into his side. 

The axe was embedded deeply in the floor. Instead of pulling it free the Arishok walked over and picked up the sword he’d dropped earlier. Hawke was trying to reach the injury with a healing spell and crawl away at the same time, leaving a frightening trail of blood on the floor.

Fenris felt the world around him dim as the Arishok stalked towards Hawke and raised his sword for a killing blow. The cries of his friends and the nobles faded and he watched the blade descend and sink into the mage’s back, pinning him to the floor. The green light around his uninjured hand faded as he screamed in pain. 

The Arishok twisted the sword, and Hawke’s scream fell silent, his body went still. Fenris stared down at the mage’s body willing him to move. Slowly Hawke’s breathing stopped.

“No,” he whispered. “Please, no.” He’d known that this was a likely outcome, but… 

The Arishok turned away from Hawke’s body and addressed the distressed crowd. “You will be given a choice,” he said. “Submit to The Qun, or die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the companions are there except for Sebastion. I figured in this kind of emergency they'd all go looking for each other, and it's a long way from the docks to the keep.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duel isn't over yet.

Screams filled the Viscount’s throne room as the Qunari started killing people who didn’t immediately fall to their knees and swear themselves to the Qun. They all realized belatedly that the Arishok hadn’t promised not to convert the people of Kirkwall. 

Fenris cursed in Arcanum. He had spent years free of Danarius, only to fall to the oppression of The Qun. He pulled his sword from his shoulder and crouched defensively as he was approached by Qunari warriors. Around him the rest of Hawke’s companions also pulled their weapons free. Anders and Merrill had tears in their eyes, but the rest of them wore grim masks. They were outnumbered.

Aveline stepped forward. “Arishok,” she called. “You cannot do this!”

“This city must be cleansed of its corruption,” he replied simply.

“You have what you came for,” she argued in vain. “Leave us be.”

The Arishok stepped forward threateningly. “If you will not submit, you will join the Viscount in his fate,” he said with a gesture at the man’s headless corpse near the throne.

Anders’ eyes suddenly glowed bright blue, and cracks split his skin as Justice surfaced. “You have misled us,” he intoned in his harsh voice.

“I spoke the truth,” the Arishok rumbled. “Hawke only agreed to duel for the thief. Do not attribute his oversight to me.”

Suddenly a bright golden light filled the throne room, causing the nobles to cry out in panic. Fenris and his companions threw their arms up over their faces to protect their eyes from the glare. A wave of warmth engulfed them and he felt the minor injuries he’d received fighting his way from the docks to the Viscount’s Keep heal. He lowered his arm slightly and squinted down to the source of the light, but quickly squeezed his eyes shut in pain. It was like looking into the sun, and he could see dark spots against his eyelids.

The light began to fade. A strangely beautiful voice spoke. “Victory is not yet yours, Arishok.”

Fenris blinked through the dark spots in his vision. Slowly they cleared and he stared down in shock. Hawke stood behind the Arishok, but something was wrong. His eyes were engulfed in a golden glow which also seeped from cracks in his skin. Bright light spilled from his side and his back where his body had been torn open by the Arishok’s blade. Slowly the wounds sealed before their eyes. 

The Arishok had spun around and now stared at Hawke with an expression suspiciously like fear. He spoke rapidly in Qunari, and Fenris caught the word “demon”. The elf’s stomach churned as he realized what he was seeing. Hawke had allowed himself to become possessed.  
Justice advanced on the Qunari warriors, and they backed away from the nobles, but he didn’t attack. “You intend to finish the duel?” he asked the abomination that Hawke had become. 

Hawke nodded, and Justice gave a grumble of approval. 

“What is going on Hawke?” Aveline demanded.

Although the abomination’s eyes had no pupils or irises, Fenris could tell when he focused on the Guard Captain. “I am not Hawke,” he said. “I promise, you will receive an explanation.” He turned to the Arishok. “I do not want to kill you,” he said. “You may withdraw if you wish, however you may not take Isabela. She will atone for her crimes, but not at your hands.”

The Arishok spit out a curse. “I will not withdraw,” he growled. 

“I am truly sorry that it must come to this,” Hawke said softly. “I had hoped for a peaceful end to this conflict.” He reached out and pulled the Arishok’s axe from the floor and tossed it to the Qunari leader. He bent down and picked up the sword that had recently pinned him to the ground and he fell into a fighting stance.

This time the fight was much harder to follow. The Arishok had also been healed by the blast earlier blast of power, and he moved quickly. The creature in Hawke’s body obviously wielded great power, but did not cast any spells. The opponents danced gracefully around each other, and Fenris could not help but admire the skill with which they fought. It was clear though that the Qunari leader would not win however. Despite the waves of healing magic that still appeared to be rippling from Hawke’s body, the Arishok was tiring. He tripped and fell backwards on the stairs leading up to the throne. 

“We will return,” he snarled.

With a regretful shake of his head, Hawke raised the sword he held in both hands above him and brought it down straight into the Arishok’s heart. Letting go of the blade he took several steps back and then fell to his knees. The glow faded from his eyes and skin, and he looked around groggily.

The remaining Qunari looked at each other warily, then slowly began to file out of the Keep. When they were all gone, the room erupted in cheers.

Anders, who no longer glowed with Justice’s presence, was the first to move. He ran down the stairs and wrapped his arms around his fellow mage. The rest of them followed, but Fenris trailed behind slowly. He was the last to reach the bottom of the stairs where he stood next to the Arishok’s body. He couldn’t bring himself to move closer to the mage.

Hawke’s eyes fluttered in exhaustion. “How do you deal with that?” he asked Anders in a slurred voice. 

“I won’t say you get used to it,” Anders said with a chuckle. 

Aveline knelt down next to the two mages. “What just happened Hawke?”

The clattering sound of armor came from the hall leading to the throne room, bringing their attention around. “I’ll explain later,” Hawke said.

Knight Commander Meredith entered the room, and quickly took in the scene. She stepped closer and glared at Hawke. “It appears you have saved the day,” she said angrily. “It is a shame that you were not in time to save the Viscount.”

Hawke sighed, and with Anders’ help climbed to his feet. “I saved as many as I could,” he said. “No thanks to you,” he grumbled under his breath. Louder, he asked “What now, Knight Commander?”

Despite himself, Fenris held his breath. Hawke had revealed himself as a mage, and if any of these nobles understood what they had seen, an abomination. Surely Meredith would take him into custody. As a possessed mage, he would be executed.

Help came from an unlikely source. Seneschal Bran stepped forward. “The city has been saved,” he said, and the crowded nobles broke into cheers again.

Meredith glared at Hawke, but did not seem willing to incite the ire of the nobility. “Well done,” she said with barely suppressed ire. “It appears Kirkwall has a new Champion.”

It took a long time for the group to extricate themselves from the throne room. Everyone wanted to thank Hawke for his heroic act. Luckily no one brought up his strange transformation because they were all just relieved to be alive. By the time they reached the Hawke estate, the mage was so exhausted that he had to be half carried by Anders and Aveline. They moved him into his room while Bodahn and Orana hovered worriedly, waiting for someone to give them something to do. 

Taking pity on the eager to please servants, Fenris asked them to make a meal for the guests. Used to his presence now, they accepted his instruction easily. It made him feel somewhat uncomfortable to give them orders, but someone needed to do it. Once he had finished speaking with them, he joined the rest of Hawke’s companions in the mage’s bedroom. 

“Why is he so tired?” Aveline asked worriedly. 

“Besides the fact that he nearly bled to death, had to heal himself from major injuries, and save a city by fighting a duel, you mean? He’s putting out a constant healing aura,” Anders explained. “He’s a spirit healer… which explains how quickly he’s learning.”

Fenris remembered the time Hawke had botched his attempt at self healing. “He doesn’t seem like a very quick healer to me,” he said.

Anders glared at the elf. “Healing takes years of training and discipline. I’ve been studying it since I was a child, and I was formally trained. Hawke is doing amazingly well considering his lack of education.” He turned back to the mage who was now sleeping soundly, and his expression turned to a worried frown. “He needs to turn off that aura though. It’s draining him quickly. If he pulls too strongly from the fade, he’ll hurt himself.”

“Give us some good news Blondie,” Varric said. 

Instead of answering, Anders leaned forward and started smacking Hawke’s cheeks softly. Slowly, the mage’s eyes blinked open and he focused on Anders. “What?” he mumbled.

“You need to let go of that aura,” Anders told him.

“Can’t… Don’t know how.” Hawke’s eyes unfocused and wandered around the room. “I just… need to sleep a little longer,” he mumbled. Slowly, his eyes slipped shut again.

“No!” Anders said. He shook Hawke, but received no response. “Andraste’s arse! He won’t wake back up!”

Fenris removed his gauntlets, hooked them to his belt, and walked over to the bed. Shoving Anders out of his way, he leaned over Hawke and smacked him hard, making the others in the room wince, or speak up in protest. “Gabe!” he called. 

Hawke’s eyes opened, and he smiled at Fenris. “I’m a little too tired for the rough stuff,” he mumbled.

Fenris blushed, but otherwise ignored the comment and the chuckles that filled the room despite the tension everyone felt. “Let go of the spell, Gabe.”

“Ok,” Hawke mumbled. The room became cooler as the aura shut down. There was a collective sigh of relief. 

“How did you do that?” Merrill asked curiously.

Isabela, who’d been unnaturally quiet put her arm around the tiny elf’s shoulders. “He puts out, Kitten.”

“Puts out?” Merrill chirped. “What is he putting out exactly?”

Fenris groaned, and glared at Isabela. She winked at him, and he blushed even brighter when the room filled with laughter.

“Oh,” Merrill said in disappointment. “Did I miss something dirty again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm sorry, I know that last chapter was kinda mean. I totally blame my husband. I was going to continue on a bit, but he thought that was the best place to split up everything I had written so far and silly me, I listened to him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris keeps an eye on Hawke until he recovers, but is not happy with him.

It had been two days since the Qunari attack, and Hawke was still asleep. Fenris, and Anders were staying at the estate with him while the rest of his companions took care of urgent matters caused by the incident. Isabela had disappeared without a word of where she would be going, just a mumbled promise that she would check in later. Merrill had left to help restore the Alienage. It had taken quite a bit of damage during the riots which had started during the chaos of the attack. Varric hadn’t been specific, but had left in case he was needed by his contacts. Aveline had stayed just long enough to make sure the mage wasn’t in immediate danger anymore, but had been drawn away by her duties. She made sure the estate was kept protected. Hawke may be the city’s champion, but now that he’d been revealed as a mage he was in danger of being secreted away by Templars. 

Surprisingly, Carver kept showing up to check on his brother. He had not witnessed the duel, but Merrill had given him the details before anyone could protest. Fenris had almost smiled when she’d given the shocked Templar a hug in an attempt to ease his distress. Luckily Carver didn’t seem to be in any hurry to turn his brother in, although a small voice in Fenris’ mind kept asking if that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. As Kirkwall’s champion Meredith wouldn’t dare execute him now, but it was dangerous to let another abomination wander free. The thought was always followed by an image of Hawke with a Tranquility brand on his forehead. He pushed the thoughts down viciously. 

At one point Sebastion had visited to find out what had happened, but no one trusted the Chantry brother enough to give him more than a very basic version of the story. Sebastion had accepted the story they gave him without question. He’d asked them to contact him when Hawke awoke. Despite his mistrust, Fenris believed the brother was truly worried about the mage.

Fenris sat in a chair Bodahn had moved into Hawke’s room and placed near the bed. He stared at the sleeping mage unhappily. While Hawke had spent the time resting, Fenris had been brooding. Every time he tried to sleep he would have nightmares about the duel. Sometimes, Hawke would remain cold and lifeless on the tiles, and others the abomination he had become went on a rampage and killed indiscriminately. Even worse were the dreams where he was forced to kill Hawke.

“Why?” he whispered at the sleeping mage. “Why did you do it?”

“He was desperate,” Anders said from the doorway.

Fenris turned his head to glare at the healer. He had not been pleased to spend so much time with Anders over the last few days, and he didn’t try to hide it. “That is no excuse.”

Anders folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And you’ve never been desperate enough to ask for help?”

Fenris frowned. “I didn’t ask for help from a demon.”

“Hawke didn’t either.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and placed long fingers on Hawke’s forehead to check his temperature. “You’re familiar with what blood magic feels like. Did you sense it in the throne room?”

“No,” Fenris admitted grudgingly. 

Anders sat on the edge of the bed and took Hawke’s hand, holding it between his own. Jealousy and rage that he was touching the other mage so intimately filled Fenris, followed closely by confusion. He loathed what Hawke had become, but he couldn’t let go of the warmer feelings he’d developed for him over the years. He wanted to leave, to be alone with his thoughts, but he couldn’t. He needed to know that Hawke would be all right, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist the compulsion. 

“You don’t have any room to judge him,” Anders said, not taking his eyes off the sleeping man. “You betrayed Hawke in the fade. You’ve given in to a demon’s persuasion.”

Fenris flushed guiltily. He remembered that trip into the fade to rescue Feynriel from his own dreams. When Hawke had thwarted the pride demon, Wryme had turned its attention to the elf. The demon’s touch on his mind had been powerful, and the promises beyond alluring. It had been a few years ago, but he still occasionally dreamt about what it felt like to loose control of his own body, to be forced to fight his companions. Hawke had shocked him by forgiving him, and he’d tried to forget it. He wasn’t happy to have Anders remind him now. 

“Why are you here, mage?” he demanded gruffly. “You’re the one who said Hawke was no longer in danger, that he just needs some rest. Don’t you think there are people who need you more right now?”

Anders turned to glare at him. “He’s got a spirit inside him now. We don’t know how he’s going to react to that when he wakes up.” His piercing eyes narrowed. “I’ve a bit of experience with that kind of thing, you know. I need to be here for him. The real question is why are you still here?”

Fenris sighed and rubbed his aching eyes. “I don’t know,” he mumbled truthfully. “I will leave.” He stood and moved toward the door. “Just take care of him, please.”

Behind him Anders sighed in exasperation. “Andraste’s knickerweasels. Don’t be so melodramatic. Hawke would want you here.”

“Is waking me up with your arguments going to become a habit?” 

Both men jerked their heads around to see Hawke had opened his eyes. Fenris felt a weight lift from his chest when he realized that the mage’s eyes were still the same whiskey color and not the shining gold that he’d half expected. He was staring Fenris with a strange expression that the elf could not identify.

“Thank the Maker,” Anders breathed. “How do you feel?”

Hawke’s eyes lingered on Fenris for a moment, before he turned to look at the other man. “My head feels like it’s packed too full,” he said. “And I’m starving.”

“I’ll go fetch you something,” Fenris offered.

“No,” Hawke said urgently. He held out a hand. “Please stay. I want to talk to you. Food can wait.”

Fenris nodded and walked back to take a seat in the chair he’d occupied for the last two days. He ignored his twinge of guilt when Hawke dropped his hand with a disappointed frown.

“So,” Anders said, breaking the tense silence. “You’re possessed. We should start a club.” He smiled when Hawke chuckled. “You’ll get used to the full feeling in your mind eventually, although for your sake I hope your passenger is less chatty than mine. So what happened exactly?”

Fenris leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. He didn’t want to admit how desperate he was to hear what Hawke had to say. The mage coughed to clear his throat, and Fenris waited impatiently while Anders helped him drink some water they’d kept nearby. 

Hawke held the cup in one hand, propped on his stomach while he spoke. “I really thought I could have won that duel on my own,” he said softly. His gaze unfocused as he concentrated on his story. “But it was going longer than I expected. He seemed resistant to my spells…”

“Qunari typically wear anti magic amulets when they are outside their homelands,” Fenris explained. “They don’t trust how lenient we are with our mages, and take extra precautions.” He ignored Anders’ snort of indignation at the idea that mages were treated with leniency.

Hawke nodded his understanding. “Anyway, I could feel myself bleeding out, and I called to her for help.”

“Her?” Anders asked.

“Well that’s how I’ve always thought of her,” Hawke said with a sheepish smile. “I’d never actually seen Compassion outside of a dream, and she always appeared as a female version of myself.”

“Gabriel Hawke with a pair of tits,” Anders said with a laugh. “I’d love to see that!”

Fenris frowned. “Wait. How long have you been conferring with this dem- er, spirit?”

“Since I was a child,” he answered. “When I was about six or seven, Carver fell out of a tree while we were playing and broke his arm. We were farther away from home than we should have been, and I was afraid to leave him to fetch our father. I wanted so badly to make him stop hurting. I could feel a warm tingle in my hands, and somehow I knew I had to touch him.” He smiled at the memory. “It was the first time my magic surfaced. Unfortunately for Carver it came out as a jolt of electricity instead of a healing spell.”

“Ouch,” Anders said with a wince.

“Yes,” Hawke said with a nod. “I couldn’t stop it. I managed to let go of him, but I was sparking, and it was starting to come down out of the sky. Bolts just barely missed us several times, and it was getting worse as I panicked.”

Despite himself, Fenris was fascinated. He’d never seen a mage child come into their powers which was surprising considering that mage bloodlines were cultivated in Tevinter. Of course, there was a huge gaping hole in his memory. A faint whisper of a memory drifted through his mind, an image of a red headed elf child, but disappeared almost immediately. He shook his head and focused on Hawke’s story.

“I felt a warm pair of arms surround me, and a voice whispered in my mind. It calmed me down enough that I was able to bring the electricity under control and stop the storm I’d called down. My father found us there not much later. He’d heard the thunder, and had followed the sound. My lessons started immediately.” He was grinning widely. “My father wasn’t a healer, so poor Carver had to heal the old fashioned way. He’s been pissy with me every since.”

“That explains a lot,” Anders said. “I guess I think he’s slightly less of a prick.”

Hawke laughed. “Anyway, Compassion has visited me off and on in my dreams my whole life. I didn’t realize what she was at first, and by the time I did she had become my very best friend. When I realized I was dying, and that I would fail my friends, I called out to her. We both knew the only way she could help me would be possession. She tried to talk to me out of it, but in the end she agreed.”

Fenris exploded from his chair with a Tevinter curse. “Sound logic! You should have listened to it!” He railed, unable to keep his anger inside. “Once you let a demon in, you can’t rid yourself of it. What if this ‘spirit’ decides it wants to be the one in control? You’ve put us all in danger with your foolishness!”

“He did it to save us!” Anders growled, a hint of a blue glow in his eyes. 

“And what happens if he loses control?” Fenris snarled. 

“If I can handle Justice, then Hawke will be fine,” Anders snapped back.

“Forgive me if I do not find that very comforting,” Fenris sneered.

Hawke sat up quickly and set his empty cup on the bedside table. He reached out in an attempt to touch the angry elf, but Fenris jerked back. “Do not touch me,” he growled. Unable to handle the conflicting emotions that filled him at the sight of Hawke’s hurt expression, he backed towards the door. “I’m glad you’re alright Hawke,” he said in a quieter tone. “I need to go. I’ll send Bodahn up with a tray for you before I leave.” 

He spun on his heel and stalked from the room. He felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Spirit healer :D
> 
> I had not planned this when I started writing the story, and in fact it just occurred to me a few days ago as I was trying to figure out how to make some dots connect. I remembered Wynne, and Anders is also technically a spirit healer too so I thought ah what the heck, let's do it. 
> 
> I chose Compassion because of the wikipedia definition for kindness: Charity, compassion and friendship for its own sake. Empathy and trust without prejudice or resentment. Unselfish love and voluntary kindness without bias or spite. Having positive outlooks and cheerful demeanor; to inspire kindness in others.
> 
> I thought it fit :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris deals with Hawke's new situation badly.

When the door to the Hawke estate closed behind him, Fenris realized he needed a drink. Badly. Hoping to walk off his anger, he decided to go to The Hanged Man. The alcohol there was barely worth drinking, but it was strong and inexpensive which meant he could afford a lot of it. 

He wasn’t surprised to find the tavern was busy. Disasters just gave people more reasons to drink. He also wasn’t surprised to find Isabela at the bar with a shot glass and a nearly empty bottle of liquor in front of her. She did not look alright. She had her head in both hands, and her elbows leaned on the bar. He walked over to stand close to her.

“Back off buddy, I’m not-“ when she realized it was him she stopped. She stood straight and looked at him in surprise. “Fenris! What are you doing here? Is Hawke-?”

“He’s awake,” Fenris said. 

“How is he?” she asked worriedly, then she frowned. “Wait a minute. If you’re here he must be fine. So what’s wrong with you?”

Fenris laid some silver on the bar and asked Corff for another bottle of whiskey. Understanding that he needed to fortify himself before answering the question, she followed him to an empty table in the back corner and waited patiently for him to take several swallows of the low quality alcohol. “Ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Why do I bother with this swill?”

“It’s a form of self flagellation,” Isabela said. They clinked their tumblers together and drank. “So,” she said. “Hawke?”

“He’ll live,” Fenris said quietly enough that she had to lean forward to hear him over the general commotion around them. “But he is possessed.”

“So Anders was right,” she said.

Fenris nodded and took another drink.

“I’m assuming he’s not the rawr scary kind and is probably more like Anders and his other personality.” She took a shot, and wrinkled her nose. “I hope he’s not as obnoxious.”

Fenris actually smiled at the half horrified look on her face. “We only talked for a few minutes before I left, but he seemed the same.”

“Wait, you left right away?” She asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

He stared into his empty glass for a moment before he refilled it and answered her. “I had to leave. I- I can’t…”

Isabela reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. He couldn’t feel her skin through the long sleeve of the coat he was wearing. He felt the sudden need to feel her, so he reached up with his bare hand and put his fingers over hers. His tattoos filled with the sensation of a warm breeze. It was comforting. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. 

She squeezed his arm, but didn’t pull away. “I’m glad you’re here too. It gives me a chance to say goodbye.”

“What?” Fenris asked, setting down the shot he’d been lifting to his mouth. “Where are you going?”

Isabela frowned and pulled her hand away. “I can’t stay. I fucked up, and there are people who are going to be after me. I’ve just been waiting to make sure Hawke was ok before I left. Ships are finally being allowed to leave the docks, so I’ll probably be on one soon.”

“After all of that, you’re just going to leave?” he demanded with a frown.

Isabela scowled. “And why not? All I’ve ever been is trouble for this city.” Her frown faded and she looked sheepish. “I can’t keep asking Hawke to clean up my messes.”

It made sense, although he suspected Hawke didn’t mind. The man never turned down his friends when they came to him for help, even if he didn’t agree with what they needed. Fenris knew she was running away, but at the moment he couldn’t blame her. Isn’t that what he was doing right now? She would be running much further away but the concept was the same. A wave of envy flowed through him, and an idea occurred to him. 

“Take me with you,” Fenris said.

“What?” Isabela asked in surprise. 

“I want to go with you,” he said again.

“You’re drunk,” she said with a frown. 

He rolled his eyes at her. “No I am not. I can drink you under the table, and you know it.”

“But what about Hawke? You and he-“

Fenris cut her off with an angry wave of his hand. “He is an abomination! He is not the Hawke we knew.”

She stared at him incredulously. “You can’t mean that.”

“You knew Anders before he was possessed,” he argued. “Can you honestly say he’s the same?”

“Well no,” Isabela said uncertainly. “But he was much younger then, and all he cared about was enjoying his freedom. Now he wants to bring that freedom to others. He’s still funny and lighthearted.” She frowned. “Ok, maybe not often anymore, but I’m not sure if that’s because of Justice, or if it’s Kirkwall that’s put the stick up his arse.”

“I can’t watch that happen to Hawke,” Fenris said quietly. 

Isabela stared at him in consideration. “I don’t know when I’ll come back, if ever,” she said.

“I understand.”

She sighed. “Alright. We’ll get out of here on the next ship.”

Fenris nodded.

…

It actually took them a few days to find a ship that was taking passengers out of the city. Fenris had chafed at the delay. He hadn’t needed to pack very much. The most difficult part had been retrieving the book Hawke had given him. He’d left it at the mage’s estate, and he refused to leave it behind. He had stood outside while Bodahn had fetched it for him. He’d been afraid that Hawke would come out and confront him, but he hadn’t. He refused to acknowledge how much it hurt that the mage hadn’t come looking for him already after he’d stormed out a few days ago. It was foolish of him to think that he could keep pushing Hawke away and have him keep coming back. 

When the dwarf had brought the book to him, Fenris handed him a note that he’d painstakingly written to the mage. It had been difficult to write, not because of his underdeveloped writing skills, but because he couldn’t help picturing the look on the mage’s face when he read it. It was only two short sentences.

_I need time. I am sorry. ~Fenris_

He stood on the deck and leaned against the railing and watched the city of Kirkwall recede into the distance. The Twins loomed above him as the ship maneuvered its way out of the harbor. He stared at the sheer cliffs surrounding the city and wondered why he felt like even though he was leaving the City of Chains, he still felt bound. Hiding from his former master in a place built with the blood and sweat of slaves had been a very bad idea.

Isabela joined him, and leaned against his side. “If you want to jump ship and swim back, now’s your last chance.”

Fenris didn’t take his eyes away from the cliffs. “I can’t swim,” he said. 

“Well shit.”

He glanced down at her to see she was also frowning at the city. He wrapped the arm she was leaning against around her shoulders and squeezed her close. After a split second of surprise, she slipped her arm around his waist and returned the one armed hug. 

“I’m going to miss him,” she said.

Fenris didn’t answer. She already knew how he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this won't last long.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Isabela return to Kirkwall.

Careful not to let the blanket he was wrapped in slip too much, Fenris leaned out of the nest of pillows and quilts he’d made on the floor and reached for another log to toss on the fire. He reclined back on the pile of pillows and began reading again. It was the book Hawke had given him. He’d already read it countless times, but although his skills had increased, his understanding had not. Even now, with nations and years between him and Danarius, he still didn’t feel free, and he wasn’t sure he ever would. 

He laid the open book on his stomach and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. He missed his friends. He had Isabela, but even though they had become close over the past three years, he couldn’t let go of his memories of Kirkwall, especially those of a snarky light-hearted mage. Whiskey eyes framed by shaggy black hair over a toothy grin flashed in his mind and he closed his eyes to savor the image. 

The sound of splashing water made him pop open one eye and tilt his head to see Isabela walk around the screen separating the tub from the rest of the room. She was nude except for the towel wrapped around her damp hair. They had not been lovers for a long time now, but he still appreciated her beauty. He smiled at her as she padded over to the pile of blankets on bare feet.

“Make room,” she said, nudging him with a toe. “I’m freezing!”

Fenris opened one of his arms, and she snuggled down next to his warmth. He wrapped his arm, along with the blanket, around her and pulled her shivering body closer. Her skin was cold enough that he could feel it through his clothing. “You wouldn’t be so cold if you didn’t parade around naked,” he said in amusement. 

“I wouldn’t be so cold if we’d stayed in Rivain” she replied. 

“It was your idea to come back,” he reminded her. 

She made a noncommittal sound. “Yes because Castillon wouldn’t expect me to head back here right now. And I got tired of your sad face,” she said. “I’d forgotten how cold the Free Marches get.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at the cover of the book he still held. “Reading it again are you? Don’t you get tired of the same story all the time?”

“I keep hoping I’ll learn something from it.”

Isabela propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him in frustration. “You’ve been free for what? Seven years? Can’t you let it go?”

Fenris shook his head. “No. Not while Danarius lives.” 

She sighed and lay back down against him. “Let’s hope Hawke doesn’t hold grudges the way you do.”

“What is wrong? Why am I suddenly the less pessimistic of the two of us?” Fenris asked. “I feel like we had this conversation in reverse when we decided to return. Don’t you remember that speech you gave me about Hawke forgiving us for betraying him in the Fade? ‘If he can forgive us for that, he’ll forgive us for leaving’ you said.”

“It was a front,” she grumbled. “Fake it till you make it. That’s my motto.”

Fenris picked up his book, closed it and set it on the floor. He turned until he lay on his side facing Isabela. “If he doesn’t forgive us, we can ask Aveline for help.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure Captain Man-Hands will just jump on the chance to help me,” Isabela muttered.

“She’ll go after slavers without question,” Fenris reminded her.

“Quit being reasonable, and let me be broody.”

Fenris chuckled. “When we see Varric, I’ll let him know that you’re claiming that nickname now.”

“That won’t work. You still brood more than I do.” She poked him in the stomach with a finger. “Although since we decided to come back, you’ve been much less gloomy. You’re practically vibrating with excitement.”

“I shouldn’t have left him.” Fenris said.

Isabela frowned. “What if he doesn’t forgive you? He could be…. Different.”

Fenris closed his eyes. “That is a possibility I am trying to avoid thinking of.” 

“Hmph.” Isabela didn’t push the issue. They had already been having this argument for weeks. She yawned and closed her eyes.

It felt strange to be in Danarius’ mansion again. It had held up well considering it had lain abandoned for the last three years. He’d been sending money back to Varric to keep it empty, but not for upkeep. They had arrived in Kirkwall well past midnight, and had decided to stay in the decrepit estate instead of getting a room at an Inn. He’d been tempted to go straight to Hawke’s home, but the lingering fear of how the mage would receive him after three years of absence kept him away. 

Next to him, Isabela had fallen asleep. Shifting until he was more comfortable, he tried to sleep also, but it was a long time coming. His dreams were of smiling whiskey colored eyes, a happy smile, and a rich laugh.

…

Varric frowned as he looked around. “You don’t need to stay in this pit anymore, you know.” He looked back at Fenris and held his hands up defensively. “Not that you haven’t er… cleaned it up nicely,” he said in reference to the fact that the room they were currently sitting in had been cleaned of cobwebs and debris to make it habitable. 

Aveline rolled her eyes at the dwarf. “It’s falling apart,” she stated matter of factly. She turned back to Fenris and pinned him with a stern look. “And my ability to keep the Seneschal from noticing is near an end.”

“I appreciate what you’ve done, Aveline,” Fenris said with a respectful nod. Since he still did not own the property himself, he was surprised that it had not been reclaimed by the Viscount’s office yet. He was impressed with the effort they had put into helping him keep the estate considering they had no idea when, or if he would return. 

“But you’re staying?” Varric asked. His expression turned to exasperation. “You could go anywhere now. I’ve kept your money invested, and you are a very wealthy elf.”

“Perhaps I do not wish to go anywhere,” Fenris said wryly. 

Aveline glared at him. “You’ve been gone for three years. You could have fooled me.”

Fenris looked away. “I am sorry.”

“We’re not the ones you should be apologizing to,” Varric said. 

The sound of the front door slamming open and footsteps rushing across the floor of the main hall caught their attention. Fenris’ heartbeat sped up, and he stood just as Hawke burst into the room.

The mage came to a halt just inside the portal. His eyes quickly took in Aveline and Varric’s presence then settled on Fenris. He was breathing hard as if he’d been running. 

Varric cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well anyway, Broody. It’s good to have you back. You know where to find me if you need anything else.” 

Aveline also said something, but the words didn’t register. Fenris nodded to them both without taking his eyes from the man standing across the room. Hawke moved to the side so they could leave, nodding only slightly to acknowledge their goodbyes. He looked older, but the lines around his eyes looked like they were caused by laughter. He seemed a little too thin, and his shaggy hair was longer. Hawke reached up in a familiar gesture to brush it out of his eyes, and Fenris felt his heart thud painfully.

“You’re back,” Hawke breathed. “I saw Isabela in The Hanged Man, she told me you were here.” His expression was hopeful, but there was something else there too, something the elf didn’t recognize.

Fenris couldn’t help the amused twitch of his lips. “Yes,” he said simply. Hawke took another step into the room, but hesitated. He felt his smile fade as he realized the mage was afraid. 

“Will you stay?” Hawke asked. He flushed, and took a step back. “I mean, uh... not that it’s any of my business…” he stammered to a halt. He started backing out of the door. “I should go.” He turned on his heel and moved to leave.

Fenris was horrified. He had worried that Hawke would be different, but this was not what he expected. The cocky smile and calm confidence was gone. “Hawke, wait,” he called. He moved to follow the mage, and grabbed him by the arm just as he reached the top of the stairs.

The taller man spun, and wrapped strong arms around Fenris. Hawke slammed his mouth down on his, and kissed him desperately. Electricity flowed from the mage’s lips into the tattoos just under his mouth and spread down his throat. He groaned and reached up with both hands to slide his fingers into Hawke’s shaggy hair. It was still as thick and silky as he remembered. 

Hawke pulled back with a gasp. “Fenris, I-“

Fenris didn’t give him a chance to say anything further. He leaned up on his toes and slid his tongue over Hawke’s bottom lip, making him stutter to a halt. “Gabe,” he said in a low growl. 

“Maker forgive me, I don’t know if I can stop myself if you change your mind,” Hawke whispered. “I want you.”

All his fears about Hawke’s possession were washed away under the waves of need he felt. “I am yours,” Fenris answered. He started moving backwards, leading Hawke back into the room they had just vacated. 

Their fingers worked furiously to free each other of clothing, leaving it in a path to the table at the center of the room. When the backs of the elf’s thighs touched the edge, Hawke suddenly dipped and lifted Fenris to set him on it. The mage leaned forward until he was forced to lie back on the cold wood. Strong hands gripped his hips and positioned him so that he could feel Hawke’s erection rubbing against him through the cloth of their trousers.

Hawke hooked his fingers in Fenris’ waistband and tugged the leggings off. He stood back and stared down at the elf. “So beautiful,” he whispered. He ran his shaking fingers up and down the tattoos, watching them light up in the wake of his touch. A slightly golden glow lit his eyes. “It… sings.”

“Gabe?” Fenris asked warily, his heart pounding from more than just lust now.

Hawke blinked and the glow went away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s fascinated, but she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. She’s gone for now.” He frowned. “Did I just ruin the mood?”

A laugh rumbled up through Fenris’ chest, making Hawke raise an eyebrow. He wrapped his legs around the mage’s waist. He pressed his knees upward, forcing Hawke to bend back down over him. When he realized that Fenris wasn’t rejecting him, he smiled and allowed the elf to pull him down into a kiss.

“Are you sure?” Hawke asked when he pulled away to catch his breath. 

Fenris nodded, and was rewarded with a happy grin. The mage reached between them and slid his fingers over the lines of lyrium on the elf’s erection. “Please Gabe,” he rasped. 

Hawke slid down until he could slide his tongue over the lyrium marking’s he’d been caressing with his fingers. Fenris groaned as he felt the mage probe him with a finger. He wiggled his hips, wanting more. 

“Patience,” Hawke said against his hard flesh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Fenris gasped when Hawke added a second finger. “So instead you wish to drive me mad?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Hawke asked. He gave Fenris a wicked look. “Turnabout is fair play.”

Fenris chuckled. “Fair point-“ he broke off with a groan when Hawke wrapped his lips around his hard flesh and suckled gently. A third finger joined the others, and he cried out when they twisted to press at just the right angle. Vaguely he realized he was begging incoherently.

Hawke finally took mercy on him. He stood and pressed himself slowly into Fenris’ body. His expression was strained and he gasped when he finally buried himself fully. He wrapped one arm under the elf’s knee and leaned forward, sliding impossibly deep. 

Fenris closed his eyes in pleasure. His tattoos were glowing brightly as electricity flowed through them. He shifted his hips, encouraging Hawke to move inside him.

“Look at me,” Hawke demanded.

Fenris opened his eyes, and met the mage’s eyes. 

Hawke was looking down at him with a tender expression. Wrapping one arm under Fenris’ knee, he leaned forward to brace himself on the table with his other hand. Slowly the mage rocked his hips. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Fenris felt his heart skip a beat. He leaned up on an elbow and kissed Hawke with everything he felt and could not say. Their bodies moved together urgently. The feel of Hawke’s stomach rubbing against his cock, the fullness inside him, and the warm tingles running through his markings soon became too much and he cried out his pleasure.

Hawke followed him in ecstasy after only a few more thrusts. He just barely caught himself before he collapsed on top of the elf. He gasped for breath, and stared down at Fenris with an amused smile.

“What is so amusing?” Fenris asked through his own breathlessness. 

“We have company,” Hawke said, making Fenris frown.

Isabela’s sultry voice came from the doorway. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Fenris dropped his head back on the table with a groan and closed his eyes. “How long have you been there?” he asked. 

“Long enough to figure out Hawke has forgiven you,” she said smugly. When Fenris started cursing in Arcanum she laughed. “Oh calm down,” she said cheerfully. “It’s not like I haven’t seen either of you naked.” She made an appreciative sound. “Lovely view from here by the way.”

“Isabela,” Hawke said warningly. “If his head explodes, I’ll be very upset with you.”

She laughed again. “I came to check on you two to make sure your reunion went alright. Now that I know, I’ll just take myself off back to The Hanged Man for now. I need a drink after that show.”

When she was gone Hawke stood and pulled himself free. Fenris allowed him to help him up into a sitting position. He winced slightly and shifted against the soreness. Hawke leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips, and a warm wave of power flowed through his whole body, so intense it nearly burned. When it faded, the soreness did too. 

“I see your healing skills have improved,” Fenris said with a wry smile.

“A little,” Hawke said cheerfully. Then he frowned. “Wait a minute. She’s seen you naked?”

Fenris laughed at the jealous look on Hawke’s face. He wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “I thought of you the whole time.”

“Liar,” Hawke said with a chuckle. “But thank you for trying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it always bugged me that Hawke and Fenris would go three years without getting back together while still living in the same city. I do not intend to fully follow the game timeline, but it seemed like Fenris would need time to come to terms with things, and having Isabela drag him all over creation seemed like a good way to do it.


	27. Chapter 27

Fenris slowly opened his eyes. The image of the red-headed elf child from his dreams lingered. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was certain now that it was his sister Varania that he was remembering. It had been years since he’d had any memories surface, but in the last few days since he’d been sleeping with Hawke again, they were coming again. They still faded when he woke, but he concentrated hardest on the ones about her. They were the happiest of his dreams, and although he felt melancholy when they happened, he was starting to appreciate them. He had nightmares just as often. 

It upset Hawke when he had the nightmares. He had tried to keep cloth between them, first by wearing a night shirt to bed, and then when it always ended up removed in the middle of the night when they’d inevitably make love, he’d tried to keep a blanket between them. Fenris wouldn’t have it. That one week they’d spent together years ago had caused the elf to become emotionally addicted to the warm hum of magic running through his tattoos. It was why he and Isabela had eventually become lovers. She’d gotten tired watching him try to drink himself into oblivion just to sleep. While the feeling he got from her was milder and different, it had been comforting enough that he’d been able to sleep normally. It had only lasted a few weeks, but he’d be forever grateful to her for getting him through his depression. 

The tingle was different now; warmer and more intense. Fenris knew it was because of Compassion, but the underlying electricity was all Hawke. He found comfort in the fact that his markings allowed him to feel the man he cared about hadn’t changed very much now that he had a passenger. In his absence he’d come to terms with the fact that Hawke may have become completely different, but his fears had been unfounded. The mage was just as cheerful, just as genuine, and his sense of humor was still just as dirty. 

Beside him, Hawke stirred and stretched his arms above him. He turned his head on the pillow and smiled sleepily at Fenris. “How did you sleep?” he asked in a rough voice that the elf found sexy and had caused them to stay in bed late more than once. 

Fenris raised an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re asking me? You’re the one giving up your bed to sleep on a pallet on the floor.”

“Yes, well if you don’t want me to suffer you could always change your mind and move in with me,” Hawke teased. When Fenris opened his mouth to argue, the mage held up a hand. “Peace, love. I understand your need for independence.” He sat up and ran both his hands back and forth through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. “Besides, I’ve slept in worse conditions. Remember the Deep Roads?”

“Not fondly,” Fenris said wryly.

“Exactly,” Hawke said with a cheeky grin. His smile faded slightly and he gave Fenris a worried look. “But seriously. How did you sleep? Any dreams?”

Fenris nodded. “I dreamt of Varania again.”

“You’re sure it’s her?” Hawke asked. 

“It must be,” he replied. “I can’t remember the details, but my dreams of her are happy ones.” Fenris stared blankly towards the wall. “I… want to try and find her.”

Hawke reached out and ran a hand over Fenris’ back muscles, the lyrium beneath his hand lit up in a path following his hand. “I think you should.”

“It is dangerous,” Fenris said.

“Yes.”

Fenris turned to meet Hawke’s gaze. “Will you help me?” he asked uncertainly.

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I’m hurt you feel the need to ask.”

Fenris smiled shyly. “I apologize. I am still trying to come to terms with your forgiveness.” 

Hawke wrapped his hand around Fenris’ neck and pulled him close so their foreheads touched. “You came back,” he whispered. “In the end, that’s all that matters to me.” 

“Sometimes I’d hoped you would have come after me,” Fenris admitted.

Hawke’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “I wanted to. So many times.”

They had both avoided the subject of the elf’s disappearance, instead just relishing each other’s company. Fenris swallowed and pulled away slightly to look into Hawke’s eyes. He was reluctant to break the peaceful interlude, but this conversation couldn’t wait forever. “Why didn’t you?” he asked. 

Hawke’s scowl deepened, and leaned back on his hands to stare at the elf. “You don’t belong to me Fenris. If you want to leave, you are free to do so. When you did, I knew I had to let you go. I will not be another Danarius to you.”

Fenris flinched back in surprise. It was true that sometimes he worried that Hawke would take the magister’s place in his life. He still felt like his freedom was a dream. That Hawke was aware of this shocked him. A small knot of insecurity loosened in his chest. He reached out and smoothed his fingers over Hawke’s furrowed brow. “You are not Danarius,” he said truthfully.

Hawke’s scowl faded, but he still didn’t smile. “Tell me why you left Fenris.”

Fenris looked away. “I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times,” he rumbled. “The memories, the pain… it was too much. And then the duel with the Arishok…” 

“When I became an abomination,” Hawke said sadly.

Fenris couldn’t meet his eyes. “What did you expect? Magic has been a stain on my existence. To fall in love with a mage was terrifying… to see him become possessed before my very eyes….” He paused and took a deep breath. “I needed only to touch you to know that you were the same, but I was afraid. If you had felt of corruption, like Danarius, or Hadriana-“ he stopped when he looked up to see Hawke grinning widely at him. 

“You love me?” Hawke asked in response to Fenris’ confused expression.

Fenris frowned. He hadn’t meant to make that confession. “No, I- What I mean is-“

Hawke laughed softly. “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.” He sat up again and took Fenris’ hands in his own sending a warm tingle through his tattoos. “I’m afraid if I push you too much, you’ll take off again.”

Fenris stared at Hawke uncertainly. He had spent the last three years regretting his decision to leave. Coming back still had its risks though. He wanted to love this mage, but the reminder of Danarius and his life in Tevinter was etched into his skin with lyrium. They were scars, even if Hawke found them beautiful. Unable to stop himself, he asked the question again that he had put to Hawke years before. “What manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?”

“I’m not just a mage, Fenris,” Hawke said quietly. “I am also a man. I want what every man wants. Comfort, friendship…. and love.”

Fenris looked at Hawke sharply. “What if I can’t give you that?”

Hawke’s whiskey eyes met his. “I taught you to read. I can teach you to love.”

Fenris looked away without answering. He longed to give Hawke the words he wanted to hear, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes in shame at his own cowardice, and behind his eyes he could see again the color of Hawke’s bare skin in the firelight, covered sparsely in black hair that matched the locks that fell down into those whiskey eyes. He could see the intense look of yearning and joy each time Hawke brought him to orgasm. For just a moment the memories of his life before the tattoos tickled at the back of his mind, and when they faded almost instantly again his heart clenched in grief. Would it be like that for the rest of his life? Joy and pleasure mixed with sadness and regret? 

That is not what he wanted to be for Hawke. He wanted to be whole and unbroken for this man who gave so much of himself to others and rarely asked for anything in return. 

“I can’t pretend to imagine what your life has been like Fenris,” Hawke said quietly, when the elf remained silent. “However, I do know what it feels like to be lonely. I don’t wish that for you. For us. But you are your own man, and I will not push you. If all we can be is friends, then I will accept that.” Hawke suddenly grinned wickedly. “As long as we can keep having sex, that is.”

That surprised a chuckle out of Fenris. He remembered a long ago conversation outside The Hanged Man. “Friends with benefits?”

“Well you have to admit, the benefits are fantastic,” Hawke said with a smirk. “And as a healer, I can tell you that blueballs can be deadly.”

“I doubt that,” Fenris said with a warm chuckle.

Hawke gave him a serious look that Fenris would have believed if it hadn’t been for the sparkle in his eyes. “I’m serious. I only had days left to live. Thank the Maker you came back when you did!” The mage’s lips twitched, and his serious expression dissolved into delighted laughter when Fenris rolled his eyes.

Spark, who had been sleeping on a rug near the foot of their makeshift bed, lifted his head and whuffed at the closed door, bringing both of their gazes around. Seconds later, Merrill’s cheerful voice floated through the wooden barrier. “Helloooo!? Fenris? Hawke! Rise and shine!”

Fenris groaned. “Tell me why we asked her for help again?”

“She likes to clean,” Hawke said with a grin. “And it gets her out of the house and away from that mirror.”

They got up and dressed in old worn clothes. When they left the bedroom, they found that Merrill had brought Anders along with her. “What are you doing here?” Fenris demanded from the top of the stairs.

“Good question,” Anders mumbled. 

Hawke shifted uncomfortably. “I asked him for help too.”

“And I’m a stupid git for agreeing,” Anders said caustically.

Fenris glared at the blonde mage, but when he looked back at Hawke the hopeful expression on his face made him sigh. “I appreciate your assistance, Anders.” 

The healer nodded and gave him a stiff smile as a peace offering. Fenris forced a smile of his own, in silent agreement to the truce. He shot Hawke a mildly exasperated look when he walked down to greet the other two mages. He was no longer in Tevinter, but he was still surrounded by magic. Two abominations and a blood mage to be exact. But as he stood at the top of the stairs and watched Merrill rub Spark’s belly when the dog rolled over for her, he nearly laughed at the unlikely idea of Hadriana doing the same. This was definitely not Tevinter. Despite the turmoil in Kirkwall caused by an empty throne, and the tension between mages and Templars, right now this place felt suspiciously like… home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for slower updates. I blame Bioware.... Mass Effect 3 is AWESOME! :D


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris forgot Hawke's nameday and wants to get him something special.

Fenris opened his door to find Varric and Merrill waiting for him. He scowled. He had hoped it would be Hawke, back from his meeting with Aveline. He’d received a letter from Varania and was eager to share it with him. He wasn’t unhappy to see Varric, but after spending weeks with Merrill getting his mansion cleaned up and repaired, he wasn’t terribly excited to spend more time around the cheerful little mage. 

Before he could say anything Merrill gave him a worried look. “Did you step on something sharp, Fenris?” she asked.

He felt his scowl deepen in confusion. “No.”

“Slam your fingers in a door?”

“No,” he growled.

“Smack your head on a low beam?”

Fenris gave a snort of disgust. “Is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Merrill gave him a sunny smile, and he realized she’d been teasing him. “Just wondering why you’re so cross all the time.”

Varric chuckled. “I think he jabs himself with his spiky armor, personally.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and stepped back in a silent invitation for them to enter. “Perhaps it’s the inane prodding,” he grumbled.

Varric walked into the main hall and looked around. He let out a low whistle through his teeth. “I haven’t been in here since you started renovating,” he said. “It’s looking good. Seems a bit strange without the traps though.”

“Oh, there are still traps,” Merrill chirped. “They’re just magic ones. Hawke and Anders and I set them to only go off for strangers though.”

Varric gave the elf a surprised look. “Really? You can do that?”

“Of course,” she answered. Her brow wrinkled and she touched her fingers to her mouth thoughtfully. “I hope we didn’t forget to add anyone.”

The dwarf went pale and looked around nervously, making Fenris chuckle. “Do not worry,” he assured him. “You’ve already passed the main trigger. You’re fine.”

Varric only looked slightly less worried. “I’m surprised you allowed it, being anti magic and all.”

Fenris shrugged. “It took them a while to talk me into it.”

“He nearly bit my head off when I suggested it!” Merrill said. “He got all glowy and angry, and was very frightening. But then Hawke dragged him into his bedroom for a little while, and there was shouting and then it was very quiet. I was worried that we might have to go rescue them from each other, but Anders got all red and wouldn’t let me go upstairs to find out what was wrong.” The spill of words stopped momentarily as she paused to take a breath. “When they came back out, Fenris wasn’t angry anymore, and his tattoos were doing that happy flickering thing they do when Hawke touches him… and… oh…” Merrill’s eyes went very wide when she realized what must have happened. She turned pink all the way to the tips of her ears when Varric started laughing.

Fenris couldn’t stop a smirk of amusement. “Hawke can be very… persuasive,” he said simply.

Varric wiped tears from his eyes once his laughter calmed down. “I’ll just bet,” he said wryly. 

“So, what brings you here?” Fenris asked.

“It’s a secret,” Merrill said. When Fenris frowned at her in confusion, she continued. “Oh, not a secret for you,” she babbled. “It’s Hawke’s name day and we’ve got a surprise planned for him and we came to invite you and-“ she cut off when Varric put a hand on her arm.

“What Daisy is trying to say,” Varric said with a fond smile for the little mage. “Is that we’re having a party at The Hanged Man. We need you to bring him down tonight. Don’t let him know what’s going on.”

Fenris felt his eyes widen in shock. “Hawke’s name day?” How had he forgotten? He didn’t usually do anything more than buy Hawke a round of drinks when they celebrated it every year, but he felt he should do something special this time. But what? He realized Varric was speaking, and he focused on what the dwarf was saying.

“… bring him to my suite around 8 bells?”

That would only leave him a few hours to figure out what to do for Hawke. He’d have to hurry. Fenris nodded at Varric. “I will bring him. I have something I need to take care of first though.”

Varric and Merrill thanked him for his help and left to finish preparing for the party. Fenris absently returned the mage’s cheerful wave as he watched them leave. His mind was racing, trying to decide on what kind of gift he could get for Hawke. He realized he was going to need help, but who would he ask? The first person he thought of was Isabela, but then he remembered the book she’d given him for reading lessons all those years ago and he knew that would be a bad idea. Mentally, he went through the list of Hawke’s friends, but dismissed each for different reasons. When he was done, only Anders was left. He probably understood Hawke the best for many reasons, and as much as Fenris was loathe to admit it, the healer’s feelings for the man would probably make him the best choice to ask for advice. He groaned. This would not be pleasant.

He was right. Anders had not taken the request very well.

“Let me get this straight,” Anders said with a glare. “You think all mages belong in the circle, you give me shit about being an ‘abomination’, we fight constantly, and now you want me to help you pick out a gift for a man who is not only a possessed mage, but is the man _I’m_ in love with? Are you daft?”

Fenris glared back. When he felt the sharp pain of his tattoos activating in reaction to his anger, he concentrated on shutting them down. “You’re right,” he growled. “This was a stupid idea.” He turned to leave. He was halfway to the door of the clinic when Anders’ voice stopped him.

“Fenris, wait,” he said in a resigned voice.

Fenris turned to glare at the healer over his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

Anders propped a hand on one hip, and ran the other through his hair in a familiar gesture of exasperation. “Look, I know it must have been hard for you to ask me for help. I just get so angry-“ he broke off and gave Fenris an irritated look. “Tell me why it’s different for Hawke.”

Fenris turned to fully face Anders. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a mage,” Anders said in a tone that said his point should be obvious.

Fenris stared at him, as he considered the question. He didn’t want to discuss this with Anders. He didn’t really like thinking about it himself, but in his three year absence he’d been so miserable for staying away from Hawke that he’d had to examine his reasons for wanting to come back to Kirkwall. It was obvious that he was in love with the snarky mage, but it did conflict with his beliefs. Anders’ challenging glare made him decide to answer truthfully.

“I… still do not feel free,” Fenris began hesitantly. “I was born and raised as a slave and I do not know how else to be.” He stopped and swallowed painfully. “If Hawke were a magister-“ his words stumbled to a halt. He wasn’t sure how to say it. “He is not Danarius,” he finally said with a shrug and a defeated sigh.

Anders stared at him for a full minute. “Are you saying you would have been happy to be a slave if Hawke had been your master?”

Fenris nodded, unable to speak.

“That’s pretty fucked up,” the mage said with a snort. He shook his head and sighed. “All right, I’ll help you. I know the perfect thing, but it won’t be cheap.”

Fenris nodded. “Thank you.”

Anders grabbed his staff and led the way out of his clinic. After he locked the doors, and they started walking, he turned to Fenris. “You know I still hate you, right?” he asked with a wry smile.

Fenris’ lips twitched in response. “The feeling is quite mutual.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Anders replied with a chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! For a minute anyway. Sorry for the delay, but Mass Effect 3 is quite distracting. Although I do find myself zoning out during some of it while I think of what I'm doing for this story lol.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise party, and gifts.

“Can you believe Aveline?” Hawke ranted. “Making me think she’d go back to Ferelden because of that letter from the king offering her rank and title back. She’s practically family! I don’t want her to leave!”

Fenris smiled at Hawke’s ranting as they walked into The Hanged Man together. “It’s not often she gets a chance to pull your leg,” he said.

“Which is why I fell for it,” Hawke said with a mock scowl. “As if she’d ever leave.”

“Guard Captain suits her too much,” Fenris agreed.

Hawke nodded in agreement. “Right! And now that we’ve cleared up that crap with Cullen thinking she coddles her guardsmen….” his fierce expression changed to one of surprise as he walked into Varric’s suite and was greeted by cheers.

“Oh come on Hawke,” Varric said in response to the mage's shock. “You had to know this was coming.”

Hawke laughed. “I’ve been so busy lately, I actually forgot my own nameday.”

Fenris slipped around the people giving Hawke happy wishes and took a seat. He smiled in response to the cheerful grin on the mage’s face. The suite was crowded with people. All of Hawke’s best friends were there. Donnic and Brennan had joined Aveline, Lirene had shown up, and even a few of Hawke’s employees from The Bone Pit were present. Only Carver was missing.

Isabela plopped down in his lap. “Hello handsome,” she said with a sly smile.

Fenris wrapped an arm around her waist and shifted her into a more comfortable position. “Isabela,” he said by way of greeting. “I’m surprised you’re still in Kirkwall now that you’ve got a ship.”

The pirate wrinkled her nose. “It needs work. The whole captain’s cabin is decorated in mustard yellow!”

Fenris raised a brow. “And that’s keeping you from sailing?”

“Well, I also need a crew,” she replied. “But don’t be thinking you can get rid of me that easily. I owe Hawke for helping me get my ship.”

Aveline sat down across the table from them. “I should say so,” she said with a glare. “I can’t believe you let that slaver get away.” She turned her glare on Fenris too. “And I’m surprised you allowed it.”

Fenris sighed. “I admit I’m not very happy about it.” He squeezed Isabela around the waist when she pouted at him.

Isabela turned to Aveline and changed the subject. “So, Donnic was in The Rose the other night.”

Aveline’s eyes went wide with shock. “He was not!”

“Easy big girl,” Isabela drawled with a smile. “He wasn’t shopping for himself. You’re lucky to have a man who wants to please you.” She put a finger to her bottom lip and looked up thoughtfully. “But maybe…. You could indulge him more. Are there areas of intimacy you haven’t explored?”

“Why?” Aveline demanded with a glare. “Why do you give me these doubts?”

Isabela met Aveline’s glare with an unrepentant grin. “Aveline. If you shove your thumb up his ass, I win.”

Fenris laughed, but when the guard captain glared at him he coughed to cover it up. He gave her a helpless smile. She rolled her eyes at him and lifted her mug to take a drink, effectively ending the conversation. Eventually Isabela got up to go flirt with some of the mine workers, and he leaned back in the chair and relaxed. He sipped at a goblet of wine that someone had placed in front of him and let the conversation flow over him. He watched Hawke chatting with Sebastion and smiled at the earnestness with which the mage was speaking. He always gestured wildly with his hands when he felt really strongly about something, and right now was one of those times. He had gorgeous hands. His fingers were long and blunt, with calluses from weilding a staff. Fenris loved to watch them slide over his tattoos...

A giggle from beside him brought his attention around. Merrill was seated next to him, smiling cheerfully. His smile faded. “What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re in love!” she replied in a singsong voice.

He frowned at her, but didn’t reply.

“You keep looking at Hawke with sad puppy eyes every time his back is turned,” she said.

“There are no puppy eyes,” he grumbled.

Merrill laid a hand on the bare skin of his arm, and the sensation of cool running water flowing over rocks filled him. “It’s all right, you know. Even you can be happy once in a while. It won’t kill you,’ she said with a smile. Fenris scowled and pulled his arm away from her touch, but she was undeterred. “But your face might crack if you smile too much, so be careful,” she teased.

“Careful Daisy,” Varric called from further down the table. “He looks like he might bite.”

“See?” Anders said from beside the dwarf. “I’m not the only one who thinks he’s a wild dog.”

Hawke’s voice came from behind Fenris’ chair. “Well it’s a good thing I’m Fereldan,” he said with a chuckle. “This Dog Lord likes ‘em wild.” He came around the chair and reached down to pull Fenris out of it then he plopped down in it himself and pulled the elf into his lap.

Fenris blushed and tried to get up, but Hawke tightened his arms and wouldn’t let him go. “Hawke,” he growled warningly. It was no secret that they were together, but this was a public display of affection that he wasn’t used to.

“Hush,” Hawke said. “I like you right here. Besides, all the other seats are taken.”

Fenris finally gave up when he realized the mage was right. Once he relaxed, Hawke’s grip loosened. Physically, he was quite comfortable, but he glanced around nervously to see people’s reactions. In Tevinter body slaves were often kept in this position to please their masters. No one seemed to think anything of it, although he did catch a jealous glare from Anders before the blonde mage could hide it.

He thought about rubbing it in, but decided not to in light of his help earlier. He was hyper aware of the gift in his belt pouch, but he didn’t want to give it to Hawke here in front of everyone. He would wait for a private moment.

Someone passed a bottle of wine to Hawke, who handed it to Fenris. He looked down at the label and was surprised at the quality. “Agreggio Pavali,” he said softly, reading the label out loud.

“Isabela found several crates on her ship,” Hawke explained. “Apparently she’s feeling generous.” He waved his fingers over the bottle and the cork popped free. “Magic serving man,” he said with a wiggle of his brows when Fenris looked up at him in surprise.

Fenris chuckled. “I’m not sure that was Andraste’s intended message.” He took a few swallows straight from the bottle, and passed it back to the mage in a silent offer to share.

Hawke snorted. “Yes well, that just goes to show how silly she was.” He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. “Which explains why most Templars are such nitwits!”

Fenris followed his gaze to see a templar in the doorway, and felt his heart stop. The room became hushed when they all noticed him.

“Hey!” Carver protested as he pulled off his helmet.

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I said ‘most’.”

“I think I know which percentage Little Hawke belongs too,” Varric said wryly. “What were you thinking walking into a room with mages in full Templar armor?”

Carver blushed, but didn’t answer because Merrill had flung herself at him. When he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tender smile Hawke’s mouth dropped open. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “A fondness for elves must run in the family.”

“You’re partial to elves?” Fenris asked curiously.

Hawke smiled at him warmly and drank from the wine bottle before he answered. “Only one,” he said in a low sensual voice which made Fenris’ markings glimmer momentarily.

Donnic clapped a hand on Hawke’s shoulder, gaining his attention, and Sebastion engaged Fenris in a discussion about philosophy. Slowly he became less uncomfortable with his position in the mage’s lap as the night went on.

The party carried on for quite some time, and between the warmth of the room, the comfort of Hawke’s embrace, and the rich wine, Fenris became drowsy. He laid his head down on the mage’s shoulder.

Hawke didn’t stop speaking with his brother who had taken Donnic’s seat when he’d left with his wife an hour or so before. He reached up and stroked Fenris’ hair and back, making the elf’s eyes slowly droop closed.

“Uncle Gamlen was right,” Carver said in a snarky tone. “It’s obvious which one of you is the girl.”

“Carver,” Hawke said threateningly.

“Yes brother?”

“Stow it.”

Fenris smiled as he drifted to sleep.

…

Fenris was awakened when Hawke shook him lightly. He blinked groggily and looked up into the mage’s smiling whiskey eyes. He smiled back sleepily and leaned up to kiss him lightly then put his head back down on Hawke’s shoulder. Chuckles from around him made his eyes shoot back open as he became aware that they were still in Varric’s suite.

“I think it’s time we went home,” Hawke said with a wicked smile.

Completely alert now Fenris nodded and moved to get up. Together they said their goodbyes to the remaining guests and took their leave. They made their way to Hightown, to Hawke’s estate.

When they entered Hawke’s room, Fenris reached for the pouch on his belt. Before he could say anything though, the mage spoke.

“Look at this,” he said excitedly. He rummaged around in the wardrobe and pulled out a sword. He presented it to the elf proudly.

Fenris’ eyes widened as he took the finely crafted sword in his hands. He couldn’t help the hint of awe in his voice when he spoke. “A Blade of Mercy?” He looked up at the smiling mage. “You see these in the Imperium. Replicas of the sword Hessarian used to kill Andraste.”

“So they sell these at every market stand in Minrathous?” Hawke asked in disappointment.

Fenris laughed. “Hardly. Here, let me show you.” He slid his fingers over the pommel, and the blade lit up with lyrium lines similar to the ones on his skin. “These are gifts of honor, given to those who have performed a service for the Imperium. Danarius coveted them, as I recall.”

“So… not a very good gift then?”

Fenris looked up from examining the blade. “For me? Yes, I like it. I’ll think of the irony as I wield it.”

Hawke smiled happily. “Oh good. For a moment I was worried I’d made a mistake.”

“But why are you giving me this?” Fenris asked.

“You don’t remember your own name day,” Hawke replied. “I figured we could celebrate it at the same time as mine.” He frowned worriedly. “If that’s alright.”

Fenris smiled. “I would like that.” Hawke moved to embrace him, but he stepped back and held up a hand. “I… also have something for you.” He set the sword next to the fireplace and reached into his belt pouch. Shyly he approached Hawke and opened his fingers so the mage could see the two rings nestled in his palm. They were both silver with runes etched on them. They looked too large, even for Hawke’s fingers.

Hawke’s surprised eyes met his. “Rings?”

“One for each of us,” Fenris said. He picked one up and slid it over the third finger on Hawke’s hand as Anders had instructed. The enchanted ring shrank down to fit, and let off a bright flash of light. Then he slipped the other one onto his own finger. “As long as we both wear one, we’ll always know how to find each other.”

“They’re enchanted?” Hawke said absently as he stared down at the ring and flexed his hand. The runes glimmered like diamonds in the firelight, but in shadow disappeared completely.

“Yes,” Fenris replied. “Anders helped me find them at the Black Emporium.”

Hawke looked up and pinned him with an intense stare. “He did?” he asked. “Did he also explain the significance of wearing matching rings in Ferelden?”

Fenris nodded solemnly. “The custom is similar in the Imperium.”

“You know we cannot truly be married?” Hawke asked softly. “Mages are not allowed to wed. Every Chantry sister in Kirwall knows who I am so we could never have an official service.”

“Bugger the Chantry,” Fenris growled.

Hawke threw his head back and roared with laughter. His whiskey eyes sparkled merrily when he met Fenris’ amused gaze. “You’re starting to sound like Anders.”

Fenris scowled. “Bugger him too.”

Hawke’s smile turned dirty. He stepped close to Fenris and slid one hand around his waist and another around his neck and pulled the elf against his chest. “I think not. Need I remind you I'm partial to grumpy elves? But if we can get you out of these clothes…”

“So you like the gift?” Fenris asked as Hawke lowered his head for a kiss. The mage’s warm breath against his skin smelled of wine, but he knew the taste of his mouth was many times more intoxicating.

“I love it,” Hawke whispered just before their lips came together. “As much as I love you.”

Fenris put the words he couldn’t say into his kiss, and hoped Hawke understood.

 

[Art by Nazgullow](http://nazgullow.deviantart.com/)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to The Bone Pit allows Fenris and Compassion to say hello.

Pain, sharp and burning, filled him. He struggled to breath, but each twitch of his chest sent shards of agony through his lungs. He felt broken, torn. Behind the pain came a flood of heat rushing through is veins. He would have screamed if he could, but his entire existence was focused on the power flooding through him.

“Fenris.” The voice whispered through his mind. The pain began to fade along with the echoing sound of the voice.

He thought he opened his eyes, but everything was dark. A whimper escaped his throat. Where was he? What was wrong? The soft voice continued to whisper the same word urgently and with each repetition the pain faded a little more.

A glow filled the room, and he realized with horror he was held by magic bonds, limbs spread. In the shadows around the edge of the room, he could see crumpled corpses. Slaves sacrificed to add power to the ritual. A tall, regal looking human with gray hair and a face lined with age leaned over him with a sickeningly proud smile. “Look at my beautiful creation Hadriana.”

He tilted his head down and saw the glowing lines spread across his body. Blood still oozed from the new markings. Where his skin was not marked with lyrium the blood had dried in crusty trails. Movement from the shadows where the glow of the markings did not reach caught his attention, and he watched a woman walk into the light. She was completely nude. Tall and willowy, she had black hair that hung down to her slightly curved hips in soft waves. A red tattoo wrapped around her left arm. It was familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. Was this the Hadriana to whom the man spoke?

“No, I am not,” she said in a beautiful voice that resonated through the room, the same voice that had been whispering in his mind. More light illuminated the chamber, but it was not the blue silver from the lyrium in his skin. It was soft and golden and it seemed to come from the woman’s bare skin. Her eyes were a solid gold, no irises or pupils evident, but he could feel her stare. 

Had he spoken the question out loud? 

The man standing next to him was talking, but he could no longer hear his words. They seemed unimportant somehow. He focused on the woman, and the light became brighter. Lines of electricity swept from her feet over the room, burning away the scene, but where he expected to see char and ash instead a new room was revealed. The furniture was dark walnut, decorated with red and gold. A fire burned in the hearth nearby, but it seemed dim in comparison to the light coming from her. Before the lightning faded completely, it ran over his skin, burning away the blood and taking the last lingering vestiges of pain. In its place he felt a soft warmth flowing through him, which he found comforting. He took a deep breath and let it seep out of his lungs slowly. 

No longer held immobile, he found himself lying in a huge four poster bed. He turned his head to get a good look around. The gray haired man was gone, his voice silent. He sat up, and his eyes fell once again on the woman who was no standing at the foot of the bed. She lifted a knee, drawing his attention to the junction of her legs, hidden by soft black hair. He blushed and jerked his eyes upward, only to find the hypnotizing sway of her breasts. He closed his eyes and swallowed nervously. 

“Fenris?”

He opened his eyes and met hers, careful to not look any lower. He frowned in confusion. She looked like someone he knew. Someone important. A name bubbled up in his mind. “Gabe?”

The smile she gave him was radiant, and he felt like he should be blinded. As if he were looking into the sun. But he felt no pain, and he could see her clearly. “No, Fenris” she said in that resonating voice that he could feel slide through the markings on his skin warmly. 

He blinked. That was the word she had been whispering. Fenris?

“Your name,” she said, again answering a question he did not speak aloud. “One of your names actually. The one Gabriel prefers to call you by.”

An image of a man with shaggy black hair hanging in his whiskey colored eyes, grinning irreverently, filled his mind. I love you Fenris. The voice was a deep baritone, filled with humor. Another blink of his eyes, and he was staring at the woman again. He knew her now. Her features were softer and smaller, but shaped the same. Hawke’s words came back to him. I’ve never actually seen Compassion outside of a dream, and she always appeared as a female version of myself.

“Compassion?” he asked warily. He began to inch backwards on the bed, until his shoulders touched the headboard and he could move no further. He had no reason to trust this creature before him. 

She smiled at him proudly. “Hello Fenris.”

“What- where-?” he started in confusion. His eyes darted around the room nervously. He recognized the messy desk in the corner, the lute that no one ever used leaned against it, the battered chest near the door. Hawke’s bedroom.

Again reading his unspoken question straight from his mind, she answered. “You were in so much pain, and Gabriel wanted to help, but he was making it worse. He was trying so very hard, and he couldn’t concentrate well because he was scared. You tried to escape into that awful dark place which was terrifying you too. I followed you… took you from there to somewhere more pleasant.”

A window in his mind opened, and he remembered. They were at the Bone Pit. Hubert had come to Hawke’s estate in a panic. The miners had not reported in, and a lone horse pulling an empty cart had been found fleeing the mine. After having cleaned out dragonlings, giant spiders, and undead already over the last several years, Hawke had found it prudent to investigate immediately. 

They had not found any bodies, but the site was demolished. What little sign there was of the people who worked in the pit was scattered everywhere. They had followed a path down into the central mine, looking for clues. A horrific roaring had echoed off the man made canyon’s walls, making them all cringe and cover their ears. Wind from massive leathery wings swept over them along with a terrifyingly large shadow as the High Dragon and glided down from a cliff, landing in front of them. 

“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” Varric demanded in a worried voice.

Hawke had actually laughed, although there was a tinge of fear in it. “It’s definitely not the leader of the merchant guild’s daughter. This lady is much prettier, and I’m fairly certain she’s not trying to trap you into marriage.”

“Thank you, Hawke,” the dwarf said with a roll of his eyes as he pulled Bianca from her holster at his shoulder. “For a moment there I was worried I was really in trouble.”

“Look out!” Sebastion cried from behind them. 

The dragon had taken a deep breath and opened her mouth, exhaling flames. Everyone ducked to the sides, but not in time. Cries of pain filled the air as each of them received faint burns. A flash of warm light filled the pit, and Hawke’s eyes glowed golden. Fenris felt his skin heal as pulses of warm magic flooded over them.

“Stay near me!” the mage shouted. 

The dragon charged, and the fight began. Fenris had to get in close in order to be effective. Hawke stayed at range, casting weak bolts of lightening from his staff. He couldn’t use his full damaging spells when he was putting out his healing aura because it took so much of his power. With the two rogues distracting the creature with their bolts and arrows, Fenris was able to do quite a bit of damage. He phased out whenever he could not duck out of the way of the dragon’s swinging claws. 

They were winning. The dragon was becoming weak from blood loss and exertion, but she spread her wings and leapt into the air. The screech of many young dragons surrounded them, and Hawke had to drop his healing aura. He shouted the elf’s name in warning, causing Fenris to phase out completely just before lightning poured from the sky. The smell of roasting flesh and ozone filled his nostrils as the dragonlings died around him. When the last one fell, the lightning came to a stop.

Exhausted from phasing, Fenris let his markings fade and became solid once more. He turned to find the others smiling triumphantly. His memory of the next few moments seemed to play in slow motion in his mind. Their smiles had faded and turned to looks of surprise and fear. Jaws appeared in his peripheral vision, and thick sword like teeth sunk into his body. Vaguely he could hear his friends shouting his name, but the crunch of bones filled his ears and drowned out their voices. The agony was incredible. When the teeth slid out of his body and he felt like he was flying through the air, relief flood through him. Bright light filled his mind as he hit the ground, and then everything had gone dark.

He blinked and stared at Compassion. “Am I dead?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “No,” she said. “Gabriel is healing you.”

Fenris frowned. “Then where am I? I still don’t understand.”

She looked around. “You are in the Fade,” she answered absently. “When Gabriel touched you, your song went discordant and you went to that dark place.”

“My song?”

She looked back at him and nodded. She gestured toward the markings on his nude body. “Your song,” she said. “It’s much lovelier now that we’re not in that dark place anymore. I’m glad I brought you here. I like to see you happy.”

Fenris looked down at his softly glowing tattoos. Hawke had mentioned once that Compassion heard them singing. If he was remembering events correctly, the dragon had picked him up in her mouth and flung him across the Bone Pit. Injuries that severe would require a lot of power to heal. When Anders had healed his broken rib and punctured lung years ago, he’d had an adverse reaction to that much power flowing through him. He’d been pulled into a memory of Danarius’ ritual then, too. It made sense, considering that healing combined with blood magic had been used to keep him alive while the lyrium was laid into his skin. His mind probably took him to his memories of that time in reaction to the somewhat similar sensations.

“How are you here with me?” Fenris asked. “Aren’t you…?” He didn’t know how to ask the question. Luckily, she still seemed to understand.

“Gabriel and I are intertwined,” she said with a cheerful smile. “But I still live partially in the Fade. I am able to move about here freely.” 

“And me?” Fenris asked, ignoring the oddity of speaking with a spirit directly. His last experience in the fade had been when they had entered it to rescue Feynriel. The demons had been more interested in control and manipulation than conversation. He could not feel her touch on his mind. At least as far as he could tell. “How am I here? I am no mage, and there has been no ritual to send me here.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, the expression achingly familiar, but strange on her face. “You don’t know?” she asked. “But you come here all the time! I’ve seen you… you dance. It’s quite lovely.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. Dance? “You mean when I phase?” he asked. “When I’m fighting?”

She shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter, but she’d go along with what he was saying. Her understanding of his world was obviously limited. He decided to change the subject. “Why do you appear to me this way?” he said with a gesture toward her nude body.

“Do you not like it?” she asked with an unhappy frown. “Is this better?” Her form shifted and suddenly she appeared as a small white haired female elf with mossy green eyes, and glowing golden patterns swirling over her body in an exact mirror of his own markings. “I thought you might find comfort in Gabriel’s appearance, but if you prefer, I could use this form.”

Fenris’ jaw sagged open. He’d meant her nudity, not her physical features. Seeing a female version of himself was staggering. “Er… no. I mean. It’s very strange…” 

“Fenris!”

He jerked in reaction to Hawke’s voice. Twisting to look around the room in all directions. “Gabe?”

Compassion was also looking around. “He’s finished,” she said. When he looked back at her, she was smiling at him a little wistfully. “It’s time for you to go. Thank you for talking to me. I’ve so wanted to, for such a long time.”

“Why?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

She reached up and brushed white locks away from her face, and he caught the glint of a silver ring on her finger. “Gabriel loves you,” she said simply. “So I love you too.”

“Fenris, wake up! Please!” Hawke’s voice was hoarse, worried. He looked around again. He wanted to wake up, but he wasn’t sure how.

He leaned close to Compassion and grabbed her shoulder urgently. They both paused in surprise as the markings on both of their bodies began to pulse. The sensation was warm and pleasant, and she smiled at him delightedly. He forced himself to focus on her instead of the distracting pulse of his markings. “Please,” he said. “I don’t know how to leave this place.”

She nodded her understanding and reached out to brush her fingers over his eyelids, closing them. When he felt her touch lift away, he opened them again. He stared up at Hawke’s desperate face. He reached up and slid his fingers over the mage’s cheek. It was wet with tears. His relief to be out of the fade made him dizzy. Or it may have been blood loss. Whatever the cause, suddenly he found the whole affair incredibly funny.

“How is it you get into these situations so often?” Fenris rasped quietly, his mouth quirked in a half smile.

Hawke’s expression which had changed from desperation to intense relief shifted into confusion at the elf’s question. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Fenris gestured weakly at the corpses of dragons around them. “Attacked constantly, approached by strangers for help, stumbling upon ancient riddles, and dragon nests. Madness.”

Hawke looked around at the carnage. “Oh,” he said. His smile was wobbly, but genuine. “It’s a gift.”

Fenris laughed weakly. “Well I think you should return it.”

Hawke also laughed in response. He pulled Fenris close, and the elf reached up to stroke the back of his neck soothingly. 

“Glad you’re ok, elf,” Varric said from nearby. 

“Yes,” Sebastion agreed in his soft brogue. “Thank the Maker.”

Fenris doubted the Maker had been involved. The Chantry believed magic was the Maker’s curse, but if that were the case how could there be men like Hawke who wielded it to heal and to protect? True, he may be possessed, but having conversed with Compassion, he felt that she was not evil. If anything she was like a cheerful, naïve child. She had followed him into his nightmare in the Fade and pulled him out of it, for which he was grateful.

“Gabe?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s go home before another dragon tries to eat me.” Hawke pulled back and the smile on his face made Fenris wonder if anywhere could be home without this man by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Fenris isn't a tank, but I have a tendency to use him as one. As such, sometimes he ends up dead a lot and I have to revive him. He gets chomped a lot during the high dragon fight at the bone pit on hard/nightmare mode. My poor elf! :(


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varania arrives, and Fenris confronts Danarius.

“Are you sure it is her?” Fenris asked as he paced in front of the Guard Captain’s desk. He regretted the sharp tone of his voice, but he couldn’t hold in his agitation. 

Aveline took it in stride. She gestured to a report on the desk in front of her. “An elf, matching your description, on the ship you named. And alone, as far as I can tell.”

Fenris ran his fingers back through his hair. “I need to know if it’s a trap!”

“I did as you asked, Fenris,” Aveline said in a calm voice. “Now it’s up to you.”

Fenris clenched his fists. “Venhedis, fasta vass,” he growled.

“I’m going to assume that isn’t meant for me,” Aveline said warningly.

Fenris let out a sigh and forced himself to relax. He sat down in the chair across from her. “I apologize,” he said. “You have done much to help me, and I do not mean to sound like a petulant child.” 

One corner of her mouth tilted up, and Aveline nodded at him to accept the apology. “So what do you plan to do?” she asked.

“I suppose my best course of action will be to quit acting like a coward,” Fenris mumbled. He smiled wryly at Aveline’s chuckle. “I am supposed to meet her this afternoon at The Hanged Man.”

“Not by yourself I hope.”

He shook his head. “Of course not. Hawke will accompany me.”

A knock on the open door brought their attention around to see one of the guards. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain. I have a message from the Seneschal for you.”

Fenris stood. “I will take my leave. Thank you again for your help.” He shook her hand before he left. The impression of strength from her firm grip was echoed by the sensations running up to his elbow through his markings. 

When he walked outside he stood in the courtyard for a moment. He looked up at the clear blue sky. The morning air was clean for once, a strong wind blowing the smoke from the foundries away from the city. The occasional cloud scudded across the bright blue expanse. It was a beautiful day, and as people bustled through the square around him, he had just a fleeting moment of understanding. Just a glimpse of freedom. The tension in his shoulders eased. Today he would meet his sister Varania. Hopefully he would be able to regain something of his lost life. 

A bird flew across his line of vision. It was too far up for him to tell what kind it was, but he imagined it was a hawk, watching over him. He was still nervous about the possibility of a trap, but he would not be alone. 

He had risen early this morning to meet with Aveline, and it would be hours before he was supposed to meet Varania. Hawke was probably still in Darktown helping Anders scour the sewers for ingredients for a potion he was working on. Through the ring on his finger, he could sense the general direction of the mage. He had nothing else to do, so he decided to go find them. He looked down at his bare feet and sighed. He hoped they’d be finished in time for him to bathe when they got back.

As it turned out, he found them just as they were exiting the sewers. Anders had his hand on Hawke’s shoulder and was speaking urgently. 

“I know it isn’t my place to criticize,” Anders said. “But Fenris has let one bad experience color his entire world. He’s always trying to talk you into turning mages in to the circle.”

Hawke rolled his eyes. “To be fair, two of the three Meredith had us tracking down were blood mages. The dangerous demon summoning kind even.” 

Anders grunted a reluctant acknowledgement. “Alright, but surely you want someone more open minded.”

Fenris stepped in front of them, making Anders jump. Hawke just smiled his welcome. He would have known the elf was nearby. “I suppose you mean yourself,” he growled at the blonde mage.

Anders collected himself quickly and gave Fenris a glare. “Anyone else would be preferable,” he grumbled. 

Fenris opened his mouth to argue, but Hawke spoke. “Well if you two end up killing each other, Isabela is my backup plan.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Fenris asked with a quirk of his lips. “I’m nearly certain that she asked that Antivan elf to murder her husband.”

Hawke chuckled. “Her husband probably deserved it. I’m much too charming to have assassinated.” A disbelieving snort came from both Anders and Fenris, making him grin widely. “What? You don’t agree?”

Fenris leaned his weight into one foot and crossed his arms over his chest. “People have been trying to kill you for years.”

Hawke leaned heavily on his staff and brushed his fingers through his beard thoughtfully. “True,” he drawled. He waved his hand dismissively. “But no one has hired a Crow yet, so they can’t possibly be serious about it.”

“Yet,” the healer and the warrior replied simultaneously. 

Hawke laughed when they glared at each other. “It’s creepy how similar you two are sometimes.”

Fenris turned his scowl on Hawke, but didn’t pursue the subject. The mage would just continue to tease them both mercilessly. Of course, Anders must have come to the same conclusion because he also snapped his mouth shut on an angry protest. This made Hawke give them both a smirk because they’d proven his point once again. 

“So why are you here anyway?” Anders asked Fenris.

“My sister has arrived,” Fenris answered simply. 

Hawke straightened. “Shit. I forgot her ship was scheduled to come in today.” He looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose. “Do I have time to clean myself up before we meet her?” 

Fenris leaned closer and sniffed. He grimaced in response. “We will make time,” he said.

Hawke invited Anders along. It was a sign of how nervous he was that Fenris didn’t lodge a protest.

…

The Hanged Man was full as usual when they arrived. Fenris looked over the crowd searching for a flash of red hair. When he found her he stopped abruptly, causing Hawke to bump into him from behind. Noticing where his attention was riveted, the mage nudged him gently in her direction. Numbly he stepped forward until he stood next to the table where the red headed elf sat staring down at the table. 

When she noticed him standing nearby her eyes widened in surprise. Her expression became shuttered quickly. “So… it really is you,” she said in a resigned voice.

Fenris was too distracted by the memories flashing through his mind of a young girl with her features laughing and running from him in a game of chase. “I… I remember you,” he whispered. “We played in our master’s courtyard while Mother worked. You called me…”

Varania stood slowly. “Leto. That’s your name.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and began to back away slowly.

Warning bells finally began to go off in his mind. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why are you so-?” He broke off when several men at the surrounding tables stood and pulled out weapons. 

Hawke gave a dramatic sigh. “And I was so good and kept my mouth shut when I wanted to say ‘I have a bad feeling about this’. I’ll have to let Varric know that his theory is wrong.” He and Anders both hefted their staves, and moved into a protective position.

“Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always.”

Fenris froze. Slowly he turned his head and looked up the stairs. His heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears and he started panting. 

“I’m sorry it came to this, Leto,” Varania said quietly bringing his shocked eyes back to her. She was staring at the floor, her stance subservient in the presence of the magister.

Rage filled him and he felt slicing pain through his skin as his markings lit up. “You led him here,” he growled. He stepped forwarding threateningly.

“Now now Fenris,” Danarius cooed as he descended. “Don’t blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.” He walked forward and placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her proudly. 

Fenris growled and flexed his fingers threateningly, making light glint off the sharp claws on his gauntlets. “I didn’t ask for these markings Danarius, but I won’t let you kill me to take them.”

The magister chuckled indulgently. “Oh, how little you know, my pet.” 

Hawke’s sarcastic drawl split the tension. “I’ve always thought of pets as being cute and cuddly. Fenris is more broodingly handsome and prickly. Especially in that armor.”

“Says the man with a mabari the size of a pony,” Anders said with a snort.

“Spark is cuddly. Cute too, when he’s not eating people who piss me off,” Hawke replied. His tone was light, but his eyes were hard as he assessed Danarius. The mabari was sitting on his haunches next to Hawke, and he gave a threatening growl to make sure his presence was known. 

Danarius gave Hawke a congenial smile. “This is your new master then? The Champion of Kirkwall?” His eyes traveled up and down the dark haired mage appreciatively. “Quite lovely.”

The gleam in Danarius’ eyes made Fenris grit his teeth. The magister typically preferred human boys, or young elven men. Hawke was tall, muscular and masculine. He knew his former master was taunting him, but he couldn’t suppress his rage. He tried to calm himself, but his markings kept flickering.

A muscle in Hawke’s cheek jumped at the implication that Fenris was his slave. “He doesn’t belong to anyone,” he said in a dangerous voice. The last time the elf had heard him use that tone was just before he slipped a knife into Gascard DuPuis and watched him suffocate to death. “He’s paid for his freedom in blood.” 

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Danarius tilted his head, and his smile widened. “It’s not surprising. The lad is rather… skilled, isn’t he?” 

No longer able to control himself, Fenris dropped into an aggressive stance. His tattoos glowed brightly enough to shine through his clothing. Pain throbbed through every line of lyrium, only adding to his agitation. “Shut your mouth Danarius!”

The magister gave an exasperated sigh. “The word is ‘Master’.” A haze of red surrounded him and the stink of blood magic filled the room. Screams filled the air as the few patrons who hadn’t started to evacuate the premesis at the first sign of trouble lost control of their bodies. Danarius raised a bloody hand in a gesture, revealing a dripping cut on his arm. He cast a spell shield around himself and stepped back as his men and thralls advanced on Fenris, Hawke and Anders.

Fenris and the two mages were reluctant to attack the thralls, only fighting them in self defense. Danarius had no such qualms though and didn’t hesitate to sacrifice them for more power. However, when it became apparent that his mercenaries and thralls would not be enough he called out a spell. The corpses began to rouse themselves to rejoin the fight. The nauseating wail of shrieks and shade demons filled the air. 

A crossbow bolt zipped past Fenris’ ear and buried itself in the eye of one of Danarius’ corpses who had managed to get behind him. He looked up and saw Varric standing at the top of the stairs, firing more bolts.

With a flash of gold, Hawke fell into his healing aura, Spark snapping and snarling at anyone who came near him. Over the years he had learned to control the waves of healing magic so it only affected the people he wanted it to but it still took him quite a bit of concentration. He spread it throughout the tavern in an attempt to keep the innocent thralls alive. Another flash, this time in blue, caught Fenris’ attention as Justice reacted to the presence of two rage demons near the entrance. 

Isabela, who must have been with Varric was running down the stairs to join the fray. Fenris’ heart nearly stopped when he realized her steps brought her ever closer to the ring of Danarius’ magic. She couldn’t see it because she had no magical talent. If she stepped past that barrier she would be under his control as well. 

“’Bela!” Fenris shouted, nearly too late. She knew him well enough to heed the warning and stopped immediately at the bottom of the stairs.

Varania, who had been pressed up against the wall next to the stairs, pulled a knife from her belt. In a surprise move, she grabbed Isabela and stabbed her in the stomach. She held the pirate with one arm as her knees collapsed, and held the knife in place with the other hand. Every time a wave of Hawke’s healing magic swept over Isabela, Varania would twist the knife slightly, keeping the wound open. “Stop!” she shouted. “If you want your friend to live, surrender!”

Fenris and his companions all froze as she commanded, although Anders had to visibly repress Justice. 

Danarius waved his hand and the horde of corpses and demons he had summoned also became still. They still hovered menacingly, an obvious threat. “Very good my dear,” he said to Varania without looking at her. “Taking you as my apprentice is proving to be a worthwhile decision.” 

Fenris saw Varania quickly hide a grimace.

“So, my pet,” Danarius said as he stepped slowly toward Fenris. “It appears your lovely sister has found us some leverage.”

Fenris’ eyes flicked back and forth from Isabela to Danarius. “You will free her if I give myself up?” He ignored the chorus of denials from his friends, including Isabela’s weak voice. 

“Of course I will free her if you come with me. I do not wish to kill you as you suggested earlier. I merely wish to collect what belongs to me, and return to the comforts of home.”

Fenris lowered the tip of his sword to the floor. “You’ll let my friends go free? And the thralls?”

“I would not have to hurt anyone if you would stop running from me,” Danarius said in a tone that suggested Fenris were a spoiled child who couldn’t understand the consequences of his actions. 

The hilt of his sword slipped from his numb fingers and clattered to the floor loudly. Fenris bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. They might have beaten Danarius, but he couldn’t allow his friends or more innocent bystanders to die for him. He took a step towards his master.

“Fenris, no,” Hawke choked out. 

Fenris held up a quelling hand to the mage. With the tip of his thumb, he flicked at his ring and hoped Hawke saw the gesture and understood. This was the best course of action.

“Ah, that’s my little Fenris,” Danarius said in a voice that felt oily against Fenris’ skin. His markings crawled sickeningly as the magister stepped closer. “It will be so good to have you with me again.” He pulled a linked chain from his robes. The silvery metal swirled with colors, like oil on water. He clasped the enchanted collar around the elf’s neck, and then stroked the skin of his cheeks with both hands. 

Fenris felt bile rise in his throat at the familiar filth running through his markings at Danarius’ touch. He swallowed thickly as Danarius leaned forward and pressed his papery lips against his forehead. Those same lips whispered a spell and the chain links tightened around Fenris’ throat. The lyrium in his skin went dim, and he realized he couldn’t activate the markings anymore. 

“Just a precaution,” Danarius said with a smile at the surprised look on his face. He turned to Varania. “Come, my dear,” he said. “Let’s get your brother back home where he belongs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished ME3 a few days ago, so I apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. I have actually been struggling with how I wanted to handle this part since this story got past chapter 3. It was never intended to be this long and has kind of taken a life of it's own. What started out as just a bit of flirty cuteness has snowballed, and I appreciate you all sticking with it. :)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Varania have a chance to speak privately.

Light slashed through the pitch darkness Fenris had endured for the last few days. He lifted his head from between his knees and squinted through his hair. Several figures filed into the small room he was being held in. A magelight floated above his sister’s palm. Danarius and the two other mages were smirking at him, but Varania’s face was blank.

“My dear little wolf,” Danarius said quietly. “I’m sorry to have left you here so long, my boy. I did not wish to risk your escape.”

Fenris had no doubt of that. When he’d learned they would be boarding a ship bound for Minrathous he had contemplated jumping overboard. Isabela had eventually taught him to swim. Unfortunately he’d been brought to this small damp room in the hold immediately. Other than one meal brought to him each day, he had been left alone. When the gentle rocking of the ship changed, he knew they’d left harbor. It was only a matter of time before Danarius decided it was safe enough to bring him out. 

When the magister gestured for Fenris to rise and follow him, he obeyed. There was no use resisting while they were out to sea and he had no avenues of escape. Besides, if Danarius thought he was docile, it would be easier to kill him when the opportunity presented itself. 

They walked up through the bowels of the ship and into the sunlight. Fenris squinted painfully. The mage light had not been enough to acclimate his vision to an open sky at midday and he was temporarily blinded. When he was finally able to look around he found that the ship he was on was flanked by two others. Of course Danarius wouldn’t travel anywhere without bringing most of his household. This would make things more difficult when Hawke caught up with them. 

He followed Danarius toward one of the ship masts, and was not surprised when the order was given to strip him down to the waist and tie him to it. He may be too valuable to kill, but there was no way the magister would allow a slave to go unpunished for rebelling. He didn’t struggle, although he knew what was coming. He had watched many lashings before his escape. Danarius liked to make examples to the rest of his slaves, and it was Fenris who would serve that purpose today.

He pressed his cheek against the cool wood of the mast. Behind him he could hear the rattle of a cat’o’nine being shaken to untangle the straps. From experience he knew it would probably have bits of metal shrapnel knotted into the leather. Danarius was speaking, probably giving him a speech about how this was for his own good, and this would hurt him more, and the usual words of goodwill that were worth as much as a whore’s cries of pleasure. Fenris didn’t pay attention. Instead he stared at Varania who stood nearby. 

She looked uncomfortable under his scrutiny, refusing to meet his eyes after only a moment.

He grunted in surprise at the first slash of pain across his shoulders. The sting of skin opening was no more painful than activating his tattoos during battle though, so he kept silent. He concentrated on the ring on his finger, and took comfort in the feel of Hawke’s presence. Danarius’ ships were traveling quickly with the help of magic, but his lover was closing the distance. They were about half a day behind, probably because Isabela had needed to gather her crew and stock the ship before they could leave. But her ship was fast, and his friends also had magic to speed their travel.

When Fenris had realized they would be taking a ship back to Minrathous, he’d been grateful that Hawke had allowed Isabela to make a deal with Castillon. He’d been angry at her when she’d traded the slaver’s freedom for his ship. He hadn’t said anything to her though because after spending a few years traveling with her, he knew she was happiest at sea. He had given her the silent treatment for a few days afterward, and he’d known it hurt her feelings. He made a mental note to apologize to her when he saw her again. 

As much as it pained him to admit it, he was also grateful to Anders. When he’d suggested rings, Fenris had wanted to visit a local jeweler’s shop in the Hightown market. The mage had rolled his eyes in exasperation. “He’s a mage, you idiot. Let’s find him something special.” Anders had taken him to the Black Imporium. He’d seen the rings on a previous visit, and when he explained the purpose of their enchantment Fenris had agreed that they were perfect. They’d been exorbitantly priced, but worth it.

It took him a moment to realize that the regular slash of pain had stopped. He could feel blood trickling down his back and into his leggings. He focused on Varania again when a green glow surrounded her hands. He growled when she stepped closer to touch him. 

She only hesitated for a moment but she still placed her cool fingertips against his skin. He didn’t want to feel her, but even though he couldn’t control the markings himself they still lit up when she touched him. The phantom scent of baking cinnamon and apples drifted through his senses.

She slapped at his hand as he snatched a tart from the tray, but he was too quick. He tossed it back and forth between his hands for a moment until it was cool enough to pop in his mouth. He gave her a wink and exited the kitchen before he could get caught and get them both in trouble. She sent a tiny bolt of purple spirit energy at him before he could reach the door, making him yelp. Her giggles followed him as he made his escape.

He closed his eyes against the memory. “Why?” he whispered.

“I had no choice, Leto,” she replied just as quietly as her hands continued to brush over his skin, sealing the lacerations. 

“But you were free when I found you in Qarinus,” he said. “A tailor. Why did you go back to his service?”

“He’s going to make me his apprentice. I’m going to become a magister.”

Tears leaked from under his closed eyelids. His own sister was a mage, and not immune to the promise of power. Neither of them said anymore as she finished healing his back. She stepped away and the whistle of leather heralded the first strike as the beating began again. 

The pattern of lashing and healing went on for quite some time. Fenris suspected it probably would have ended sooner if he’d given some indication of suffering. He kept completely silent though. It was a small act of rebellion, but he smiled slightly when Danarius stepped into his line of vision and he saw the magister’s obvious frustration. By the time the punishment was over blood had seeped all the way down the back of his legs and he stood in a puddle of the sticky dark liquid. If it weren’t for Varania’s healing he would not have survived. As it was though, he was exhausted.

“Take him to my cabin and clean him up,” Danarius said in disgust. He waved a hand and the ropes holding Fenris against the ship’s mast came loose. 

He stumbled away from the mast, but managed to keep his feet. Varania stepped forward to help him, and he bared his teeth at her. She took the message seriously and did not touch him, but she did gesture for him to follow her.

In Danarius’ cabin she tried again to help him, but backed away quickly under the power of his glare. There was a tub full of water at one end of the cabin, and with a flick of power she heated it for him. She sat on a stool with her back turned to him to give him privacy. The silence between them stretched as he stripped down and lowered himself slowly into the steaming bath. 

The water turned pink quickly.

Varania spoke softly, breaking the silence. “You say you didn’t ask for those markings,” she said sadly. “But that’s not true. You wanted it. You competed for it.”

Fenris turned his head to stare at her back. “What?”

Her shoulders tensed and she turned her head slightly toward him. “Danarius offered a boon to the winner, and you used it to gain freedom for Mother and me.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly.

“You hate me for making this decision,” she said bitterly. “But freedom was no boon. Mother and I struggled to take care of ourselves. You have no idea what I had to go through to survive since she died. This was my only chance.”

“Chance for what? What was wrong with being a tailor?” he demanded. 

Varania turned to glare at him. “I wasn’t a tailor the whole time I’ve been free! I had to warm Magister Ahriman’s bed for several years before I could leave his service!”

Fenris sat up, ignoring the water that splashed over the edge of the tub. “But you could and did leave because you were free to do so,” he hissed. They glared at each other for a moment before he sighed and leaned back in the tub. He didn’t know how long they had until Danarius would come, so he grabbed the soap and started washing. “I am sorry that happened,” he said in a softer tone. 

“Do you understand now why I look at you and think you got the better end of the bargain?” she asked, her tone still bitter.

He shook his head sadly. “No I did not. I warmed Danarius’ bed,” he whispered. “And Hadriana’s, and anyone else he wished to share me with.” He gestured around at the cabin. “Why do you think he asked you to bring me here to his private room?”

Varania’s glare faded and she glanced around. “I didn’t- I don’t know- “

Fenris continued, ignoring her spluttering. “He was my master, and it was my purpose to please him. Whether it was serving as body guard, pliant bed partner, or assassin.”

“Assassin?” she asked in a small voice.

He only nodded. “A skill I’m going to use to kill him.”

She snorted in disbelief, and turned away when he moved to stand. “Of course. Without a weapon and on a ship surrounded by his people.”

He dried himself with a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. “That will pose no problem.” He bared his teeth in a vicious grin when she turned in surprise to face him again. “Stay out of my way when the time comes, or I will kill you too.”

Something in his expression must have been terrible to behold because Varania’s eyes widened in fear. She quickly stood and backed toward the door. He turned his back on her and crossed his arms over his chest. When he heard the door click shut behind him, he let his head fall back on his shoulders. He hoped he did not have to make good on that threat. 

He looked around and found a stack of folded clothing that must have been meant for him. It was a fine silk tunic and trousers. There were no undergarments. While normally he preferred not to wear them, the clothing was thin enough that it would hide very little, so he tore a sheet and made himself a loincloth. He chuckled darkly at how much he enjoyed ruining something of the Magister’s. 

Fenris looked around. The room was opulent, full of silks and expensive wall hangings. Knicknacks lined a shelf on one wall, probably held in place by magic. A wine rack and a bookshelf lined the opposite wall. He examined one of the bottles. Agreggio Pavali, of course. Danarius must always be surrounded by the best of everything. Wine, silks, treasures…. Slaves.

Fenris pulled one of the bottles free and stared at it. Shortly after meeting Hawke he’d told him the story of how Danarius made him serve the expensive wine to intimidate guests. They had gotten drunk together and smashed every last bottle of Agreggio Pavali they’d found in the cellar. He hadn’t wanted to be friends with the mage, but he’d already drunk a full bottle by himself and he’d let his guard down. He remembered thinking that it felt strange to smile so much. He didn’t have many reasons to for as long as he could remember. Even his time with the Fog Warriors had been tense despite their open welcome of him. It was hard not to smile when Hawke was around though and the smile that grew on his face now felt familiar and comfortable.

He looked around again and his smile widened. A good slave would wait patiently for his master’s return. He hefted the bottle in his hand. He swung his arm back and forward, letting it fly from his grasp. The crash of glass against the far wall made him chuckle. He reached for another bottle.

Fenris was no longer a slave.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and his companions catch up to Danarius' ships.

When Danarius returned to his cabin a few hours later, Fenris was sprawled across the bed reading a book he’d found. It was the only intact piece of furniture left, although the sheets and blankets were shredded. The fragile trinkets and knickknacks were smashed, papers destroyed, clothing in tatters. 

The magister’s face showed very little emotion as he looked around at the wreckage. When he turned his gaze back on Fenris only a slight flush to his cheeks betrayed his displeasure. “What have you done?”

Fenris raised a brow and looked around before meeting the magister’s eyes. “I redecorated,” he said simply. He kept his face carefully neutral. 

“Very foolish,” Danarius finally said. “Are you so eager for punishment?”

With a shrug, Fenris rose from the bed. “It was no hardship the first time,” he said.

“Is that so?” Danarius twitched his fingers and whispered a spell. The collar around Fenris’ throat became warm, and he felt himself pulled forward by it. He felt his limbs move and he walked until he stood just before the magister. He could only glare helplessly as Danarius reached up and stroked his cheek almost affectionately. “My sweet pet,” he said softly. “Please remember who I am. I will break you, have no doubt of that.” 

Fenris felt bile rise in his throat as his tattoos reacted to the magister’s touch. “Never again, Danarius,” he growled.

An amused smile spread across the magister’s face. “We shall see,” he said. He turned on a heel and left the cabin, forcing Fenris to follow along. When they reached the deck Danarius looked around until he spotted what he was looking for. “Varania,” he called. 

Varania turned from where she stood at the railing. The sun which had shone so brightly earlier was now hidden by dark stormclouds and a strong wind was rocking the ship wildly. Fenris kept his balance easily, but Varania stumbled as she tried to walk across the pitching deck towards them. Once she stood before them, she bowed her head respectfully. “Yes?” she asked. She let out a squawk of surprise when Danarius grabbed her and pulled her to stand before him. He wrapped one hand around her throat so she couldn’t move.

Fenris tensed. Unfortunately the magister noticed. 

“Hm, have I found the key to your obedience?” Danarius asked.

Fenris met Varania’s confused eyes. Every time he looked at her, another memory of their childhood surfaced. Playing in the courtyard, sitting at mother’s skirts peeling potatoes for dinner, listening to her taunt him as he fumbled with his first practice sword. Just like him, she had struggled with her freedom. He did not agree with her choice to serve Danarius, but he understood her inability to see another course of action. He did not want her to be hurt on his behalf. If he could just stall for time…. 

“Kill her, if you like,” Fenris said dismissively. “She is nothing to me.”

Varania’s voice was small with terror. “Leto, no!”

“Do not call me that,” he growled at her. “You know you brought this on yourself.”

Danarius’ eyes narrowed. “I do not think I will kill her,” he said. He pressed his nose against her hair and inhaled. “She is not up to my usual standards… but I can make an exception.”

Fenris suppressed a shudder and forced himself to sneer. “If that is what you wish.” He concentrated on his ring. Hawke was close, but he didn’t dare look around to see if he could spot the ship. He was surprised the lookouts hadn’t announced it yet because they should be visible by now. 

His act must have worked because a small crease appeared on Danarius’ brow. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the magister pushed his sister away. She stumbled and fell to her knees in front of him. What relief he felt faded immediately at Danarius’ next words.

“Kill her.”

Varania cried out. “What? But master-“

Fenris couldn’t resist recoiling in shock. “No. You can’t make me kill her.”

Danarius’ knowing smile was slow, and Fenris felt his heart start to pound. “Can’t I?” he asked calmly. He raised a hand and gestured. 

The familiar pain of his tattoos activating flowed through his skin. Danarius moved his hands as if he were controlling a marionette and the elf felt his body move in response. He struggled against the compulsion, but only managed slow down slightly as he found himself reaching down to wrap his fingers around Varania’s throat. He lifted her until she stood on her tiptoes in front of him, both of her hands wrapped around his wrist as she struggled to breathe. He could feel her warmth flowing into his palm and down his arm, and as he stared into her terrified eyes and his other hand phased and reached for her chest another memory filled his mind.

_She looked up at him sadly from where she sat on the floor. “I don’t want to leave.”_

_Leto stopped packing the trunk she would share with their mother when they left. He squatted down in front of her and took her hands in his. “It is dangerous for you here. I don’t want to see you used in a blood ritual.”_

_Her eyes held too much knowledge. “So you will sacrifice yourself in one of his rituals so we can be free?”_

_“He’s not going to kill me,” he argued._

_She shook her head in exasperation. “No one else has survived.”_

_He opened his arms, and she moved into his embrace. “No one else has had so much worth living for,” he murmured into her hair. “Just knowing that you and mother will be free will give me the strength I need.”_

He blinked and came back to the present. His fingers were a hairsbreath from her sternum, and they trembled with the effort to keep from reaching for her heart. 

“Such strength,” Danarius murmured proudly. “It’s why I chose you for the lyrim brands. Unfortunately it won’t be enough to-“

What might have said was drowned out by the roar of thunder as a lightning bolt struck the mast of the ship. Danarius turned in surprise, and in his distraction let go of the spell holding the elf in his thrall. 

Fenris felt his tattoos go dark, and he immediately pulled Varania into his arms and held her as she coughed and sputtered. He looked around as he dragged her backwards. A fourth ship appeared at starboard. He blinked in confusion. Had the ship been there all along? A small dark haired elf stood at the bow, a bloody knife in one hand and the other arm marked with bleeding cuts as she cast spells towards the other two ships.

“Merrill?” he said in surprise. 

His attention was pulled away by hooks being thrown over the rails. Sailors swarmed the decks, but they included familiar faces. Aveline, Donnic along with a few others from the city guard were among those who clashed swords with the sailors from Danarius’ ship. It seemed strange to see them out of their armor, but it made little sense to wear full plate out on the sea where a misstep could leave them sinking quickly to their deaths.  
Varric and Sebastion were both shooting flaming arrows at the other ships, aiming specifically for the mages they could see. And was that Carver on the closest ship, blasting mages with his nullifying powers?

“How in Thedas did they get so close?” Varania asked in wonder, her voice hoarse from coughing. Her head jerked in surprise as a howl split the air, and she stared at the mabari tearing through sailors on one of the other ships. 

“Confusion spell,” Fenris answered in a grunt, for once not upset at Merrill’s use of blood magic to strengthen the spell enough to cast it over three ships full of people. “Made us think they were one our Danarius’ ships.” He pulled Varania down beside a bulkhead where they were out of the way of the lightning that was pouring down over all three ships. His eyes searched desperately for Hawke, but in the chaos he couldn’t find him. He turned to her urgently. “They’re outnumbered, and the element of surprise will only give them a small advantage. We need to help them. Can you get this collar off me?”

Varania nodded and reached out to press her fingers against the links. They loosened and the chain slipped from his neck to clatter against the deck. “I-I don’t know if I-“ she fell silent and threw a worried look at where Danarius stood inside a shield nearby casting spells.

Fenris grabbed her face in his hands and stared into her mossy green eyes that looked exactly like his. “You are free,” he said, willing her to understand what it took him so long to learn. “You get to make your own decisions. He is not your master.” 

Her eyes flicked back and forth as she stared back at him. She nodded once and gave him a tremulous smile. When he let her go, she whispered an incantation and gestured. A slight shimmer surrounded him. “It won’t stop much,” she said. “But that shield should deflect a blade or a fireball or two.”

He nodded his thanks and stood to join the battle, leaving her alone to lob spirit bolts at enemies. He didn’t have a weapon, so he had to rely on quick movements and surprise to win skirmishes. It wasn’t the most effective way to fight and he soon found himself surrounded.

“Destructive forces of nature, coming up!”

Hearing Anders’ shout, Fenris phased out to avoid the fireballs that fell down around him. A wash of ice swept past him putting out the fires on the deck and a few seconds later the mage appeared at his side. 

“I’m almost glad to see you,” Fenris growled as they turned their backs to each other to face the reanimated corpses. He’d managed to grab a short sword from one of them and he swept it through the skull of the nearest while another burst apart in a flash of purple spirit energy.

Anders threw a surprised glance at Varania. “Your sister is a mage?” he asked breathlessly. “You bloody hypocrite!”

“At least she isn’t an abomination,” Fenris growled back, secretly pleased to be sniping with the mage again. “Where is Hawke?’ he asked after taking down another corpse. 

Howling filled the air as rage demons started tearing through the veil. Anders froze one with a blast of cold, allowing Fenris to shatter it before he answered. “He’s the one keeping Danarius occupied.”

Fenris turned his head to see the magister crouched inside a shield being blasted by bolt after bolt of lightning. He followed the flashes of light to see Hawke standing on the deck near the rail. The storm was rocking the ship violently, but the mage just spread his legs and moved with the deck. The elf’s attention was temporarily captured by the graceful movement. It looked like dancing. 

The fighting on the other ships was trickling off, and more of his allies filled the deck of Danarius’ ship. Isabela, thankfully healed from her stomach wound, leapt from her deck and ran laughing into a fight with Aveline and Donnic, protecting their backs. Carver took out the last of Danarius’ mages on the farthest ship, and looked around for another target. Seeing his brother he took a running leap from deck to deck until he stood next to Hawke. He let out a roar and ran towards the shielded magister.

Fenris broke out into a run too. When Carver let out a blast of silence, all of the mages staggered slightly, but most importantly it dissolved Danarius’ shield. He was behind the magister, and closer. He phased his fist and punched it through his old master’s back and out through his chest. He lifted a foot and pressed it against his shoulder to pull his arm free with a warm heart in his grip. With his death the summoned demons dissolved back into the fade without his power holding them there anymore.

Carver stumbled to a halt in front of him and looked at the dripping organ in disgust. “You’re not going to do something crazy like eat it, are you?” He asked. 

“Ugh, that was not a mental image I needed,” Anders said from nearby. 

Fenris opened his fingers and let the heart fall down next to Danarius’ corpse. He turned and found Varania still crouched. He moved his pilfered sword to his bloody hand and beckoned to her with the cleaner one. Her wide eyed stare made him worry for a moment that she would reject him now that she saw what he’d become, but she smiled at him timidly and came out of her hiding spot to stand next to him. She allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and lead her forward to where Hawke was standing. 

Hawke grinned back and forth between them. “I can’t help but notice the irony. I’m a mage and my brother is a Templar. You hate mages, and your sister is one.”

Fenris gave Varania a dark look. “A magister’s apprentice, no less.”

She smiled shyly. “No,” she said softly. “I’m just a tailor from Qarinus.” She wrapped both her arms around Fenris and buried her face against his shoulder, and he hugged her back tightly.

“Aw, this is super adorable,” Hawke said teasingly. “But if I don’t get to hug him too in the next few seconds, you’re all going to have a very upset abomination on your hands.”

Fenris chuckled as he pulled away from his sister and let Hawke embrace him. The mage hugged him until he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t complain. He ran his fingers up into his hair and smiled as warm lightning flowed into his palms. The hovering storm began to lighten, and he realized it was conjured, probably to help distract Danarius’ people from the confusion spell being cast on them. 

“Lookout!” Varric called from Isabela’s ship.

Before anyone could react to the warning, Varania let out a scream. An invisible force pulled her backwards, and Fenris turned just in time to see her impaled on a large jagged sword held by Danarius’ corpse.

“Revenant!” Carver shouted.

Fenris felt the world around him slow down as he met his sister’s gaze. Her face was contorted in pain and fear, but gradually the muscles relaxed and the light left her eyes. He stared at her as she slumped forward, still hanging from the giant sword. The Revenant that Danarius had become flung the weapon to the side, and her body slid free and flew across the deck, coming to a stop against the base of the mast where he’d been beaten earlier. 

Everyone broke into motion around him, and the battle began again as they tried to take down the magister’s possessed corpse. He did not join them. He walked slowly over to Varania and knelt down next to her. He wanted to call for healing, but he already knew it was too late. He gathered her in his arms, and brushed her bright red hair away from her face and stared at her without blinking. He could no longer feel the warm cinnamon apple of her aura flowing through the tattoos on his hands, but he could still remember the things that had been coming to him every since he met her in The Hanged Man. He concentrated on the scenes in his mind. Her smile, her laughter, her singing as she prepared dinner. He examined each feature, etching it on his mind and heart. He would never forget her again. 

The sound of fighting behind him came to an end, and a hand came down on his shoulder. Hawke knelt down beside him. He wrapped one arm around Fenris’ shoulders, and reached out with the other hand to entwine his fingers with the elf’s where he held Varania’s face. A warm flow of magic seeped from his fingers in a futile attempt at healing, but her skin only grew colder. 

“I’m so sorry,” the mage said in a choked voice against the pointed tip of his ear.

A tear slid down Fenris’ cheek and landed just under Varania’s closed eye. “She told me our mother died too,” he whispered. “I just rediscovered the last of my family, only to lose her. There is nothing left for me to reclaim. I am alone.”

“I’m here, Fenris,” Hawke said softly.

With a sad smile he turned his head into the crook of Hawke’s shoulder. The mage gathered them both in his embrace. “Yes,” he said. “You are.” He tightened his arms around his sister. “Please Gabe. Let’s take her home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, totally made myself cry at the end there.


	34. Chapter 34

Fenris sat with his head pillowed on his arms at the table in Varric’s suite. One hand was wrapped around a nearly empty bottle of wine. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning so he could sit up and finish the bottle, but it stayed stubbornly in motion. He was still hoping the wine would help stop his thoughts from spinning the way the room was. 

Hawke’s relieved sigh came from the direction of the door. “How long has he been drinking?”

“All day,” Varric replied. “I figured you knew he was here because of those fancy rings, but after all the wine he’s had I thought it would be a good idea to get you down here.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Hawke replied. He sat down in the chair next to Fenris and rubbed his hand back and forth across his shoulders. The touch helped him focus slightly and the spinning sensation calmed down enough for Fenris to lift his head and look blearily at Hawke. The mage smiled at him. “You’re going to have one hell of a hangover,” he said. “It’s a good thing I finally talked Anders into teaching me how to heal one.”

Fenris tried to say that he was fine, but it came out as an incoherent mumble. 

Hawke chuckled. “If you’re trying to tell me that you’re fine, I can see clearly that it’s a lie.” He stroked Fenris’ hair. “Do you think you’ll be all right to stand?”

Fenris shook his head in answer and immediately regretted it as the room resumed its mad spin and his stomach churned in protest. He took a few deep breaths before he was sure it’s contents would stay put. 

“Hawke if he pukes in here, I’m charging the cleanup fees to your tab,” Varric said in amusement.

A trickle of tingling healing magic flowed from Hawke’s hand into the back of Fenris’ neck and the spinning slowed down. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I can’t sober him up, but I can make sure he doesn’t get sick.”

“Really?” Varric replied. “That’s a handy trick. How come you’ve never used it for me when I’ve overdone it?”

“Probably because we usually get sloshed together, and I can barely remember how to cast a spell,” Hawke answered with a chuckle. 

When he was sure Fenris wouldn’t lose what little was in his stomach, Hawke helped him to his feet. He wrapped an arm around the elf’s shoulders to keep him steady and led him out of the tavern and into the streets of Lowtown. 

Fenris blinked in surprise when he realized it was dark outside. He’d gone to the Hanged Man shortly before noon. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I lost track of time.”

“Good wine will do that to you,” Hawke replied cheerfully. In a more serious tone, he continued. “I wish there were something I could do to help you through this. You know I’m willing to listen if you need to talk.”

Fenris blushed. “I just needed to be alone for a while, and your home is not empty.” He had been staying with Hawke since they’d arrived back in Kirkwall. He couldn’t bring himself to stay in Danarius’ old mansion now. Hawke had left early in the day to help Anders in the clinic because there had been a fire in Darktown, and the healer had been overwhelmed with patients. Fenris had stayed behind intending to read a book, but he’d found himself unable to concentrate. His thoughts were still centered on his sister, and seeing Orana bustle around the estate had made him uncomfortable. What little he remembered of his childhood involved Varania doing her chores in Danarius’ household, and the shy little elf reminded him too much of his sister.

Hawke nodded his understanding, but didn’t say anything. They walked back to Hightown together in silence. Each step in the cool air cleared his mind a little more and Fenris no longer needed to lean on the mage to keep his balance, but he didn’t pull away. 

When they reached Hawke’s estate, the mage had Bodahn bring a pot of tea and some sliced bread up to their room. Once he’d eaten, they undressed for bed. 

Hawke pulled Fenris close under the blankets, and the elf sighed into his shoulder as the warm tingle of his magic spread through his tattoos. His dreams since Varania’s death had all been pleasant, but other than the memories that had come back when she was around, they all faded when he awoke, just as before. Hawke had tried to get him to talk about them before the memories could escape him completely, but Fenris had been unable to speak of them or of his sister. He hadn’t been ready. But now, a few weeks later, he broke the silence.

“I am free,” Fenris said softly against Hawke’s skin. “Danarius is dead. Yet… it doesn’t feel like it should.” 

“You thought killing him would solve everything?” Hawke asked.

Fenris nodded. “I thought if I didn’t need to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that? Whatever past I had died with my sister. I have nothing now… not even an enemy.”

“You truly feel that you have nothing?”

Fenris tilted his head up so he could look into Hawke’s whiskey eyes. “No,” he admitted. “But if I seem bitter, it is not without cause.”

Hawke snorted. “You certainly have plenty of reason to be bitter. If it weren’t for what happened to Varania, I would have been thrilled with being able to kill Danarius a second time.” A worried look flashed across his features. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke-“

Fenris cut him off with a shake of his head. “It is time for me to move forward. I just don’t know where the path leads. Do you?”

“Wherever it leads, I hope it means we’ll stay together,” Hawke said with a smile.

Fenris felt an answering smile curve his own lips. When he had come to Kirkwall he had nothing. Now he had more than he could have ever dreamed of. He had a home, and friends. And he had Hawke. Yes, Varania was gone, and he would hold that sorrow for the rest of his life, but he had some of his memories back, and he no longer felt the need to fill the blanks. “That is my hope, as well,” he said. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

Hawke’s smile was blinding, but it quickly faded into a worried frown. “Even if I were to become a magister?”

Fenris chuckled. “You’ve never been one to go after power.”

Hawke’s frown deepened, and he sat up. He wouldn’t meet the elf’s eyes. “Sebastion put my name forward as a candidate for Viscount.”

Fenris’ eyes widened. He sat up and stared at the mage incredulously. Hawke as the Viscount? Suddenly he felt very sober, the last lingering effects of the wine wiped out by his shock. Other than the Knight Commander, it would be the most powerful position in the city. 

“Of course, it probably won’t happen,” Hawke said nervously. “The entire city knows I’m a mage, and despite the fact that I’m the Champion I doubt the nobles will go for it. And I’d need Meredith’s support which is about as likely as Isabela going celibate.” When Fenris didn’t answer, he continued. “I really want to try for this. I could really make a difference… but if it bothers you-“

Fenris reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Hawke’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. The mage stiffened in surprise, but quickly joined in with enthusiasm. They were both breathless when Fenris finally pulled back. He met Hawke’s confused expression. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Do not expect me to call you ‘master’ if you become Viscount.”

“You… aren’t angry?” Hawke asked worriedly. 

Fenris shook his head. “I think you’re a fool. Meredith will not take this lightly, and you are putting yourself in danger. But I am not angry.” He brushed his fingers over Hawke’s beard. “If the Imperium were ruled by magisters like you, it may not have fallen.”

A tentative smile spread across Hawke’s face. “Oh I don’t know. Andraste may not have appreciated my sense of humor and may have gone on her exalted march anyway. The stories make her sound like such a prude.”

Fenris pushed Hawke down onto the bed, and straddled his hips. “She’d have to go through me first.” He flared his markings warningly. 

Hawke ran his hands up Fenris’ thighs, making the lyrium flicker under his palms. “Because you like my bad jokes?” he asked teasingly.

“No,” Fenris said softly. He leaned down and began placing kisses along Hawke’s chest. He could feel the mage’s hardness press against him, and he flexed his hips so their erections could rub together teasingly. He kissed a path upwards until his mouth hovered above the mage’s. He stared into Hawke’s whiskey eyes. “Because I love you.”

Hawke’s pupils shot wide, leaving only a thin line of golden brown visible. He wrapped his arms around Fenris and crushed him close. One hand reached down to squeeze the elf’s hip and the other slipped up grip his hair to pull him down into Hawke’s kiss. 

Fenris arched his stomach up and reached between their bodies. He wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks, pressing their hard lengths together. They groaned into each other’s mouths. Hawke only allowed it for a moment before he flexed his hips and flipped their position. 

Hawke pulled back and stared down at Fenris fiercely. “Maker, I’ve wanted to hear you say that for years.”

Fenris glanced away shyly. “I was afraid.” 

“I know,” Hawke said with a grin. “And I understand. But it was worth waiting for.” He leaned down and ran his tongue over the markings on Fenris’ chin and throat, following the lines down his body. He sat up on his heels and grinned down at the elf wickedly. “I feel like I should make slow love to you all night long, but I can’t wait.” He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of oil they kept there. 

“Wait,” Fenris said. 

Hawke paused and raised his eyebrow curiously. “No?” he asked in a slightly disappointed voice.

An amused smile flickered over Fenris’ mouth. “Can I… take you instead?”

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? You’ve never- I mean, yes. If that’s what you want.” 

Fenris sat up and wrapped his arms around Hawke’s waist, pulling him forward until he knelt directly above the elf’s hard length. The feel of the mage’s cock pressed into his stomach made him ache with need. He took the bottle of oil and blindly poured some onto his fingers behind Hawke’s back, then handed it back to him to replace the stopper. He slid the tips of his fingers between the mage’s thighs, teasing lightly until he was slick with oil then slipped one inside the squirming mage’s body.

Hawke gasped and thrust his hips against Fenris’ stomach. “More,” he whispered. He groaned and let his head fall back on his shoulders when his request was granted and Fenris slid two more fingers inside of him. 

Pulling his fingers free after only a few strokes, he wrapped one arm around Hawke’s hips and pulled him down until the head of his cock was pressed against that tight ring of muscle. Hawke tried to push down with his hips, but Fenris held him in place until the mage looked down into his eyes. “I love you, Gabe,” he said in a low rumble, and then he pushed up with his hips as he pulled Hawke down. 

“Sweet Maker,” Hawke breathed once Fenris was fully inside of him. “I can feel the lyrium inside me…” His voice broke as the elf began to move his hips. He wrapped his arms around Fenris’ shoulders and held him close as they writhed together.

Hawke’s orgasm came first, and he shouted wordlessly. The feel of his muscles clenching against and around him brought Fenris over the edge as well. He collapsed backwards on the bed, pulling Hawke down with him. 

“I’d be alright with it, if you wanted to do that more often,” Hawke whispered. He winced as he pulled free and rolled onto his side next to Fenris. “Thank goodness I’m a healer,” he said with a chuckle.

“Are you ok?” Fenris asked. “I didn’t really give you time to adjust.” He ran his fingers through the silky liquid on his stomach. They’d need a bath, but right now he just relished the feeling.

Hawke blushed slightly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Not since Anders-“ he broke off when he realized what he had just admitted. “Please don’t kill him,” he said quickly when he saw the glare on Fenris’ face. “He’s my friend, and you had been gone with Isabela for over a year, and it was only the one time…”

“Only once? That seems odd considering his feelings for you,” Fenris growled.

“He isn’t you.”

Fenris’ anger dissolved in the face of Hawke’s miserable expression. What had happened while he was gone didn’t matter. Only what they had now mattered. He let out a sigh. “All right.”

Hawke regarded him suspiciously. “You’re not angry?”

“Only a little. But it is my own fault for leaving,” Fenris answered. “And truth be told, that’s about the same time I started sleeping with ‘Bela. So I guess that makes us even.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well. I’m not going to find Anders dead in his clinic with a hole in his chest, am I?” Hawke asked warily.

Fenris shook his head. “No, I understand. And as much as he annoys me, he is my friend too. I won’t kill him.” His smile faded back into a glare. “Do _not_ tell him I said that.”

It was Hawke’s turn to laugh. “My lips are sealed.”

“Hm, I can think of something you could be doing with those lips,” Fenris said. He felt himself harden again when Hawke gave him a slow, wicked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I wrote 3 different versions before I decided exactly what I wanted to do. Writer's block was kicking my butt along with a nasty cold I've had all week. Cold medicine is *not* conducive to creativity. At least not at the recommended dosage lol


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Hawke just got back from the Chantry. Hawke confronts Anders and tries to find out what is going on.

“I know you don’t understand why I must do what I do, but I thought maybe you’d support me!”

Fenris looked up from the book he was reading in surprise. The sound of Anders’ raised voice coming from the main hall meant Hawke was back also. They’d left early this morning for some errand the healer wanted help with. From the sound of things, it didn’t go well. 

“How can I be supportive if I don't know what's going on?,” Hawke said in exasperation. 

Fenris got up from where he sat leaning against Spark in a pool of sunlight in the library. The mabari gave a snort, but stayed where he was. He walked out the door to see Anders and Hawke facing off in the foyer. 

“I am trying to protect you,” Anders said urgently. “There’s no reason we both need to hang.”

Hawke rubbed his face with both hands. He looked at the other mage through his fingers for a moment then dropped his hands to his sides tiredly. “I believe in your cause,” he said after a moment. “It’s just your methods I question.”

It was disturbing to see the two mages arguing. They debated quite often, but this was definitely not academic. Hawke was truly upset that Anders appeared to be hiding things from him. Fenris walked out into the main hall where they could see him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Both mages turned to look at him. Hawke with a quirk of his lips that was his familiar way of saying hello, Anders with a fierce frown.

“It’s none of your business,” Anders growled.

Fenris glared at him. “If you’ve endangered Hawke, it’s my business.” He walked over to stand next to his lover. “What is going on?” he asked again.

“I’m not sure,” Hawke said with a sigh. “We went to the Chantry today and he asked me to distract the Grand Cleric. He won’t tell me why though.”

“To protect you,” Anders protested again. “You’re a known apostate. I don’t want any of this coming back against you.”

Fenris shook his head in confusion. He felt like he was reading a book with missing pages. “Does this have something to do with your idiotic revolution?”

Anders’ glare would have drawn blood if it had physical mass. “How can you say that? You were a slave! You should be supportive of a revolution to free the mages.”

“Mages are not slaves,” Fenris growled. 

Anders stepped forward and poked Fenris in the chest. “You’re right,” he said. “They have even less rights. At least slaves are allowed to marry, and have children and families.”

“If the magisters don’t sacrifice them for power,” Fenris snarled back. 

Hawke sighed. He put a hand on each of their shoulders and gently nudged them apart. “Enough,” he said. “I agree that the Circle is flawed, but I’m worried about how you’re going about this Anders.”

Fenris glanced away in shame. Once again Hawke was inadvertently the target of his bitterness. Warm fingers slipped into his hand and he looked up at the mage to see him smile reassuringly. The forgiveness in his eyes only made Fenris marginally better, but he squeezed Hawke’s hand in acknowledgement and returned gave a wan smile in return. 

“Maker’s breath,” Hawke continued, looking back to the other man. “I don’t even know what you’re planning. It just sounds bad because of the way you’re acting.”

Anders slashed his hand through the air between them in frustration. “Do you really want to hear that I’d be willing to kill anyone to see the mages free?”

Hawke took a surprised breath. “Anders, please tell me what you’ve done.”

Anders crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away. He remained stubbornly silent. 

“There must be a peaceful solution,” Hawke said urgently.

“No.”

“But maybe if I speak with the Grand Cleric-“

“ _No_ ,” Anders repeated. 

Fenris broke in. “If Hawke becomes Viscount, he’ll be in a position to do something about the conditions in the Circle.” Hawke turned to look at him in surprise. Apparently, he still didn’t expect very much support from the elf in that arena.

“You can’t honestly believe Meredith will let that happen,” Anders said in disgust. “She’s too powerful now.”

“I have to try,” Hawke said.

Anders rolled his eyes. “You’ll need the support of the Templars,” he said. “They can’t imagine a world with room for all of us, much less a position of power taken by a mage.”

“If you want mages to be free,” Hawke said. “We need to convince people we’re not dangerous.”

“Impossible,” Anders said with a snort. “Mages are being backed into a corner by the Templars’ abuses so they turn to blood magic. Even though they are to blame, they see us as the monsters.”

Fenris flung his free hand up in frustration. “So you’re going to do something stupid and prove them right? It doesn’t take blood magic to make a mage dangerous. You’re not a blood mage, just an idiot abomination who’s more interested in vengeance than in justice.”

Anders blinked in surprise. Concern wrinkled his forehead as he thought about Fenris’ words. “I-I always said they were their own worst enemies… but I never thought I would-“ he broke off with a sigh. He propped a hand on his hip and rubbed his forehead with his other hand as if to ward off a headache.

“Whatever you have planned,” Hawke said quietly. “There’s still time to stop it.”

“Yes, time,” Anders whispered. “Maybe there’s still time…”

Glowing cracks opened in Anders’ skin, and his eyes flashed blue. When he spoke it was in the gruff otherwordly voice of Justice. “Leave us be. This does not concern you!” 

“Of course it does,” Hawke said with a glare for the spirit.

“You do not understand,” Justice boomed. “You, who has always had freedom. The abuses of the Templars must be stopped.”

“This is Anders’ decision,” Hawke argued. “Not yours!”

“I _am_ Anders.” Justice took a step forward and lifted a fist threateningly. “You have given in to sloth. You would stand by while mages are abducted and tortured!”

Fenris activated his tattoos and stepped closer to Hawke protectively. He wasn’t sure how successful he’d be if Justice decided to attack him, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. “Anders would not threaten his friends,” Fenris hissed at the angry spirit. He was proud of himself for not flinching when the Justice’s blue gaze turned to him. He tried not to think of the bits and pieces of Templars the spirit flung around when he was angered.

“You should appreciate what we are trying to do,” Justice growled at Fenris. “You punished those who brought injustice upon you.”

A flash of golden light brought Justice and Fenris’ attention to Hawke. Compassion looked out from his eyes, giving him a wink before turning back to Justice with a disappointed frown. “In self defense,” she said, her beautiful tones overlaying Hawke’s deep baritone. “And punishment is not always Justice. More often it is Vengeance. Isn’t that the trait of a demon?”

Justice flinched at the last word and took several steps back. _“No_. No, I-“ He reached up and held his face in his hands. His whole body shuddered and the blue glow faded as the cracks in his skin resealed. When he lowered his hands, his eyes were caramel brown again, and filled with confusion. “What was I saying?” he asked a little breathlessly. He started slightly when he noticed Compassion.

Fenris eyed Anders warily. “You don’t know what just happened?” he asked.

Anders looked back at him and if possible his eyes widened even more to see the elf glowing. “No,” he said. “What do… Oh. I’m having more… blanks in my memory. Like the longer we go the less off of me there is.” His face crumpled and his eyes filled with tears. He backed away several more steps. “I should never have done this. I’ve tried my best, but he’s too strong.”

Compassion stepped forward, and grabbed Anders by the chain at the front of his coat when he tried to back further away. She tugged him close and wrapped him in her arms. Anders resisted only a moment before he broke down and began to cry in earnest. The golden glow faded and Hawke held Anders as he wept, whispering reassurances. 

Fenris let his tattoos go dormant again now that the danger had passed. He felt a twist of jealousy, but pushed it down. He knew how comforting Hawke’s embrace could be, and right now Anders desperately needed it. 

Behind Fenris the front door slammed open, startling him and causing him to reactivate his tattoos. The clank of armor filled the room. The three of them turned in surprise to see Carver and Merrill rushing toward them. The templar and the elf had practically been in each other’s pocket since Carver had been kidnapped, so it was no surprise to see them together holding hands. What was surprising was the sense of panic that surrounded them.

“Gabe,” Carver said breathlessly as if he’d been running. “Come quickly. Meredith is going on a witch hunt.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke must intervene in Meredith and Orsino's dispute.

A flash of blue, cracks opened in his skin for a split second. Anders slammed the butt of his staff onto the pavement at his feet. “The time has come to act. There can be no half measures.”

“Anders? What have you done?”

Anders turned away from Hawke, his shoulders which had been straight and strong during his defiant speech to Meredith and Orsino collapsed. Fenris could see the exhaustion in his stance, the defeated curve to his spine. When Hawke reached for his shoulder he pulled away. “There can be no turning back,” he said softly.

Fenris felt a chill move down his spine. The conversation in Hawke’s foyer echoed in his mind, and he glanced at his lover to see a worried frown spread across his face. A rumble like distance thunder filled the square where they stood. The blood red flash of light coming from the Chantry had them all spinning to stare in awe and horror as the building and all its inhabitants were disintegrated by a magical explosion.

_There may still be time._

No. Time had run out, and Anders’ mysterious plan had been pushed into motion by Meredith’s mad paranoia. 

“There can be no peace,” Anders whispered into the eerie silence between the explosion and the inevitable reaction of the witnesses.

Fenris stared at the destruction left by the explosion. Dimly he could hear Sebastion’s cry of anguish and his choked prayers. It was Wicked Grace night and Hawke’s companions had been drawn out of the Hanged Man by the commotion outside. The whispered to each other worriedly, and Isabela stepped closer to the elf as if she needed his protection. 

A mage had destroyed the Chantry. The tension in this city would snap. Every mage in the city would now be feared. Hunted. Hawke would be in danger. He could already hear Meredith claiming the Right of Annulment. 

“I demand you stand with us Champion,” Meredith said. “Even you can see this outrage cannot be tolerated!”

Fenris whipped his head around to face Hawke. His whiskey eyes darkened dangerously and the elf tensed in preparation for a fight.

“Oh shit,” Varric said under his breath. “This isn’t going to go well.”

Fenris silently agreed. Even he didn’t believe the whole Circle should be wiped out. Hawke had played along with Meredith to keep the peace, even tracking down blood mages and abominations for her. But he had always refused to murder innocents. 

Hawke leaned on his staff almost nonchalantly, one hand on his hip. “No.”

Meredith’s glare was glacial. “You are the Champion of Kirkwall. Do your duty, or fall with the other apostates.”

Hawke’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. A flicker of electricity ran over his skin and a rumble of thunder filled the air as a lightning bolt struck the ground nearby. The templars behind Meredith shifted uncomfortably, except for Carver who rolled his eyes at his brother’s show of defiance. “I will not kill innocent mages for you,” Hawke said quietly in the dangerous tone he rarely used.

“The people will demand blood,” Meredith argued harshly.

Sebastion’s angry voice sliced through the tension. “Why are we debating the Right of Annulment when the mage who committed this atrocity is right here?” he demanded with an angry swipe of his hand in Anders’ direction. 

“Oh my,” Merrill murmured. “Even I know that was a stupid thing to say.”

“You speak the truth Daisy,” Varric said. He gave Aveline a shrug and an unapologetic smile when she tried to shush them. 

Hawke’s piercing stare turned on Sebastion. The prince took an involuntary step back, but didn’t back down from the argument. “What of Anders, Hawke? The Grand Cleric is dead because of him and his misguided revolution. This act demands justice.”

“Poor choice of words,” Isabela said with a chuckle. Fenris glanced at her to see that she was tense with worry despite her laughter.

“This is Justice,” Anders growled.

“Not now, Anders,” Hawke growled without looking at the other mage. 

Sebastion pointed at Anders as he addressed Hawke again. “He must die for his crimes.”

Meredith broke in. “I will have your answer, Champion. I ask again. Will you stand with us?”

Hawke turned back to Meredith. “Go fuck yourself, Knight Commander.”

A collective gasp filled the square.

“You are a fool, Champion,” Meredith said calmly. She turned to her men. “Kill them all! I will rouse the rest of the Order.” She turned on a heel and left.

The rasp of weapons leaving their scabbards filled the air. A blast of Silence surged from around the Templars causing the mages to cry out in shock as their connection to the Fade was temporarily interrupted. Even Hawke cringed. 

Fenris pulled his sword free, and leapt forward quickly. Hawke was standing too close to the Templars, and it would be several minutes before he regained his magic. He could fight with his staff, but the elf could see that he was disoriented. He felt like he was moving too slowly as he watched two of the Templars close in on his lover. 

Carver smashed his shoulder into one of the Templars, knocking him to the ground, and punched the other one. The younger Hawke brother had put on quite a bit of muscle since he’d joined the Order and the dent his fist left in the other man’s helmet hinted at the possibility of a concussion for its wearer. 

“Snap out of it Gabe!” Carver shouted as he pulled his sword and stood protectively between his brother and the rest of the Templars. Fenris, Aveline, and Isabela flanked him while Varric stood back and loaded bolts into Bianca. Behind him, Merrill was kneeling on the pavement, her head held in her hands. Surprisingly, even Sebastion knocked an arrow and pointed it at the advancing Templars.

The ensuing fight was quick and bloody, especially once the mages regained their powers. When it was finished, they stood amid the dead Templars. Only one young mage had fallen to them, and Orsino bent down to gently close her eyes before he stood up to address Hawke. 

“We must get to the Gallows, before it’s too late to stop her.”

Hawke nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” Orsino said softly. He turned to stare at Anders who had moved to sit on a nearby crate from one of the local merchant stands. “I will leave you to deal with your… friend.” When Hawke nodded, he motioned to the Circle mages who remained with him and they turned to run for the ferry that would take them back to the Gallows.

Hawke approached Anders from behind. 

“There is nothing you can say that I have not already said to myself,” Anders said softly. His voice sounded hollow, tired. “I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited.”

“You should have told me,” Hawke said softly. “I begged you to tell me.”

Anders closed his eyes and shook his head. “I wanted to. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn’t let you do that.”

Fenris ground his teeth angrily. The flash of blue in Anders’ eyes when he slammed his staff on the ground earlier played over and over in his mind. The mage was losing control. Justice- no, Vengeance had been pushing at the mage’s sanity more and more. “That Spirit made you do this,” he growled.

Anders glanced at Fenris with a small frown. “Justice and I are one.” His caramel eyes turned to Sebastion. “The world needs to see this,” he said quietly. His voice was deeper as if Justice powered the words even though he didn’t seem to be in control. “People need to see that the Circle is not a solution. If I pay for that with my life, then I pay.” His eyes dropped to the ground between his feet. “Perhaps then Justice will be free,” he added almost too softly to be heard.

Fenris’ sensitive ears picked it up easily. “He wants to die,” he growled angrily. “Kill him and be done with it.” As soon as he said the words he regretted them. 

Memories of the last seven years filled his mind. Bickering with the blonde mage while Hawke and Varric laughed at their sniping. Turning too late to deflect a blow only to find Anders at his back, protecting him with spell shields, or flashes of healing magic. The delight in his eyes as he found the box containing the rings Fenris and Hawke now wore, and the melancholy expression when he’d handed them to the elf and explained their significance. Drunken nights of Wicked Grace in Varric’s suite. Watching Isabela tease Anders until he blushed, and then asking him to teach Hawke the “electricity thing” because it was too amazing not to share. Arguing over pints of ale about politics, slavery, the Circle. His secret wish that he could help the slaves in Tevinter the way Anders helped the mages escape to freedom via the mage underground. 

Yes, he regretted his words.

“No,” Merrill cried. “He should come with us. Set things right.”

Aveline sighed in exasperation. “He just blew up the Chantry. People died. Belief is no excuse. Sincerity does not justify this.”

To everyone’s shock, Carver spoke up in Anders’ defense. “Innocent people have been dying for years. The penalty for harboring an apostate is death in this blighted city. It’s been bloody difficult keeping as many alive as I could.” He walked over to Merrill and wrapped an arm around her shoulder before he continued. “Maybe if the Grand Cleric had stopped turning a blind eye to the corruption in Kirkwall’s Templar Order she could have prevented this whole mess.”

Sebastion went nearly purple with rage. “How dare you blame this disaster on Elthina. The mages-“

“Are not the only monsters in the city,” Carver said curtly. 

Varric let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead. “I think I’m sick of mages and Templars.”

Sebastion turned back to Hawke. “If I’d been in that Chantry today would you be waffling?” he demanded. He pulled a dagger from his belt and held it hilt first to Hawke. “You know what must be done.”

Anders turned his head so he couldn’t see the blade Sebastion held. “Whatever you do, just do it.”

Fenris held his breath along with everyone else. Hawke looked back and forth between the blade and Anders. He glanced up at the smoke rising from where the Chantry stood and a glint of golden light flashed in his eyes. After a moment, he let out a snort and slapped Anders on the back of the head. “Come on,” he said lightly. “Let’s go help the mages.”

Anders rubbed the back of his head and turned to look up at Hawke. “You mean… stay with you? I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“No!” Sebastion gritted out. “You cannot let this abomination go free. Either he dies or I leave. I will return to Starkhaven and I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule.”

Fenris stepped forward. “You threaten the city over the life of one man?” he asked. “How does that make you any better?”

Sebastion spun around to face him. “Surely you understand my position, Fenris. You also want him dead.”

“No,” Fenris said. He glanced over to see Anders staring at him in surprise. Next to him, Hawke was smiling at him warmly. “I spoke out of anger.” 

The prince foolishly wouldn’t back down. “You know we cannot allow Kirkwall to become another Imperium.”

“Oh for Maker’s sake,” Aveline muttered. “That’s farfetched.”

Fenris shook his head. “Anders isn’t trying to take over the city.”

“That’s my job,” Hawke interjected with a jaunty smile. “You should know… it was your idea that I run for Viscount.”

Sebastion turned a glare on the mage. “My mistake,” he said softly. “I thought I knew you Hawke. I gave up Starkhaven to serve the Maker, but he has turned his back on Kirkwall for harboring heretics.” This last was said with a baleful glare at all of them. His gaze settled back on Hawke. “I swear I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is.”

“Seriously,” Isabela said in a stage whisper as Sebastion turned and stalked away. “Has no one even told him?”

Hawke looked around at them, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I’m going to go to the Gallows to help the mages,” he said seriously. “We’re going to be outnumbered, and magic will not be very useful in this battle. I could use all of your help, but I will understand if any of you don’t wish to join me.”

“I’m with you brother,” Carver said. He gave Merrill a tender smile. “I may have joined the Templars just to piss you off, but I’ve come to care about their welfare.” He looked back up at Hawke. “Lead the way.”

“Me too,” Merrill added. “I believe in you Hawke.”

Isabela sighed. “Shit. What have you gotten yourself into this time Isabela?” she said softly to herself. “Count me in,” she added.

“I see what you’re trying to do, Hawke,” Aveline said. “You’ll have my sword.”

“You sure about this?” Varric asked. “Even you might not win this one Hawke.”

Familiar grin in place, Hawke winked at Varric. “Not by myself.”

The dwarf groaned. “Yeah, well it’s a good thing Bianca and I have your back.”

Everyone turned to Fenris last. He realized none of them expected him to agree to protect the mages. Even Hawke’s smile wavered slightly. He sighed. “This is a hopeless task,” he said. “But I won’t abandon you.” 

Hawke’s whiskey eyes warmed with love. “Then let’s get going,” he said, addressing everyone but not taking his eyes away from Fenris. “We have lives counting on us.”

Fenris fell in beside Hawke as they all turned towards the Gallows. “Desperation may drive these mages to terrible acts. I’ve seen it happen before. This will not be pretty.”

“Abominations and blood mages?” Hawke asked him with a sidelong grin. “Hm. Sounds like a Tuesday.”

Fenris found himself chuckling. In light of the direness of their situation it felt strange, but good. “And yet we will be defending them. You lead me to strange places, Gabe.”

“You’re not used to it yet?”

Fenris shook his head. “Not even remotely.”

Hawke’s knuckles brushed his as they walked quickly towards the docks. Fenris grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. With a tug he pulled the mage to a stop. The others hurried past them when Hawke motioned them ahead with a promise to catch up at the ferry. 

Fenris looked up into Hawke’s curious eyes. “I may not get the chance to say this again,” he started slowly. He reached up and ran his fingers through the taller man’s beard and cupped his jaw. He savored the flow of electricity through his tattoos. “Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Gabe.” He paused to swallow. “Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”

A flash of golden light shimmered in Hawke’s eyes for a moment as Compassion smiled at him. She faded quickly though and Hawke stared intently down at him with his whiskey eyes. “I don’t plan on dying, Fenris.”

“You’d better not,” Fenris growled. He slipped both hands up around Hawke’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. Their open mouths suckled and bit, their tongues caressed, and when they pulled apart their gasps mingled together. Unwilling to pull away more than an inch, Fenris savored the brush of Hawke’s hot breath against his lips. 

“I love you,” Hawke growled. 

Fenris smiled. Those words meant the world to him. “I love you,” he whispered back. He stepped away and slipped his hand into Hawke’s once again. They broke into a jog together to catch up with their friends.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle at the Gallows, Hawke and his friends are forced to leave Kirkwall. Fenris has a few things to say to Anders.

Fenris finished tying off the sail and turned to see if Isabela had any more orders for him. He found her up at the wheel with Merrill, teaching the small wide-eyed elf how to steer. He shook his head wryly. She was only barely tall enough to see over the top of the wheel. Carver stood nearby watching in amusement. Despite the fact that he was now the bulkier of the two Hawke brothers, he looked much smaller without his heavy armor.

Deciding that if Isabela needed him, she’d yell an order, Fenris turned to look for Hawke. The last time he’d seen the mage was shortly after they’d boarded the ship. Getting out of Kirkwall quickly had taken everyone’s attention. He had learned his way around a ship while traveling with Isabela and he’d lent a hand. Now that they were out of site of the coast and things had calmed down he scanned the ship but saw no sign of the dark haired mage. Instead his eyes caught a flash of strawberry blonde against a ripple of black feathers in the fading light of the day.

Anders stood against the rail staring down at the waves. The wind ruffled the feathers of his coat, and he looked like a hunched bird watching for a fish to come near the surface. They were just barely out of sight of Kirkwall, and as far as Fenris knew the healer had not spoken to anyone since their escape from the city. He seemed to be going out of his way to avoid everyone and flinched at every sound.

He found himself walking towards the mage. His bare feet were silent on the wood of the deck and Anders nearly jumped a foot when he realized the elf was there. Fenris almost smiled at his reaction. If the situation weren’t so serious, he might have laughed.

“Come to push the abomination overboard?” Anders asked him bitterly.

“The thought may have crossed my mind,” Fenris said dryly.

Anders’ head shot up and he looked at the elf in surprise. His eyebrows lowered suspiciously at the blank look on Fenris’ face. After a moment he turned back to his scrutiny of the sea. Sunlight glinting off the water cast strange shadows across his face. “Maybe you should. It might save everyone a lot of trouble.”

“It might,” Fenris said. “But you’re not the only one the Templars will be pursuing so what would be the point now?”

Anders sighed and shook his head. “And for that I am truly sorry. If things had gone as I’d planned then Hawke would not have gotten involved.”

“He was already involved,” Fenris said in irritation. “He was a prominent figure in Kirkwall, and a known apostate. He was under constant scrutiny because he’d put his name forth to become Viscount. You didn’t think Meredith would use your actions as an excuse to take him into custody?”

“I would have turned myself in,” Anders argued.

Fenris gave a disgusted snort. “So eager to become a martyr.”

Anders turned to him angrily. “I had to do something! More and more mages were being made Tranquil! If becoming a martyr is what it takes to change things, then that is what I would have done!” Blue cracks opened in his skin and his eyes flashed blue. His voice took on the deep resonance of the spirit within him. “The Grand Cleric was weak and because of her innocent lives were being lost. Their plight demanded Justice!”

“Justice?” Fenris asked the spirit quietly. “Or Vengeance?”

Justice’s face contorted with anger. “I am no demon!” he shouted.

“Then prove it, and let Anders come back,” Fenris demanded.

The angry spirit shook his head wildly. “I am Anders!”

Fenris carefully kept his expression neutral. He didn’t want Justice to see how nervous he was. He was sure he could handle himself in a fight with the spirit thanks to his markings but he wasn’t stupid enough to want to try. From the corner of his eye he could see crew members backing away worriedly. Carver pulled his sword but didn’t move from Merrill’s side.

Justice's face contorted with effort. His hands came up and gripped his head as he bent over at the waist. The struggle for control was obvious. After a few moments the blue cracks in his skin snapped shut. Anders stayed hunched over for a moment, breathing hard with the effort. Everyone eyed him warily.

"I am losing control," he moaned through his fingers. "Someday there will be nothing left of me and I will truly become an abomination."

"You are in control now?" Fenris asked.

Anders pushed himself back into a standing position. "Yes. I believe so."

"Good." Fenris pulled his arm back and threw his fist at the mage's jaw. He didn't hold back any power from the punch and felt Anders' jaw break under his knuckles. Satisfaction filled him as the mage half spun and fell to the deck. "That is for starting your blasted war."

Anders pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He reached up with one glowing hand and cupped his injured jaw. Once it was healed he wiggled it back and forth gently. "I suppose I deserved that," he mumbled as he pushed himself back to his feet.

Before he was standing fully straight, Fenris punched him again. "That is for dragging the rest of us into it."

This time Anders didn't fall. He whipped his head back to glare at the elf. "That wasn't my intention!"

"Then this is for being too stupid to realize how your actions would affect your friends!" He pulled his fist back again but this time Anders was ready for him.

The mage threw up a shield just in time, but Fenris phased his fist through it. He was slowed down enough that Anders was able to duck. He came up with a swing of his own. His fist was wreathed with flames but at a panicked shout from Isabela he snuffed them and put a force spell behind the swing instead. If his lyrium tattoos didn't strengthen his body, Fenris might have ended up with a broken cheekbone.

Anders followed that punch with a blast of force that threw Fenris back against the mast. He felt his bones creek, but nothing broke. The elf launched himself back at the mage and the fight was on in earnest. Anders was no match for the elf’s strength despite the fact that he was larger, but he made up for it with spells that enhanced his speed and endurance.

“If you break my ship, I’ll break your heads!” Isabela yelled at them.

Merrill watched them worriedly, but Carver snorted in disgust and put his sword away. The rest of the sailors just tried to stay out of their way.

Eventually Fenris pinned Anders below him on the deck. He held his throat with one hand while he pulled his other fist back. Pain sliced through his arm as his tattoos lit up and his fist phased. Cold fire flowed up through the palm of his hand to his shoulder.

Anders stopped struggling and glared up at him defiantly. Satisfaction flashed in his eyes when he saw the glow around the elf’s fist. “Do it,” he gasped.

Fenris forced his tattoos to go dormant. The disappointment in Anders’ expression angered him again, but he rolled off the mage to lie on his back next to him. They lay there for a few minutes gasping for breath before Fenris spoke. “You wanted me to kill you,” he said softly, his voice raspier from exertion.

Anders tilted his head away from Fenris. “What if he hurts someone I care about?” he asked quietly enough that only the elf’s sensitive hearing allowed him to pick up the words. “Look what we’ve done already.”

Fenris sat up and looked down at the mage. “So make it right.”

“How?” Anders whispered.

“Finish what you started.”

Anders turned his head and gave Fenris a confused look. “You don’t even think mages should be free.”

Fenris’s eyes unfocused as he pictured Hawke living in a cell in the Gallows. He remembered the stories the mage told him about his childhood and how his father taught him how important control was. He knew that the man would have been different if he hadn’t grown up free. “Maybe the Circle isn’t the best solution.”

His eyes wide with surprise, Anders cupped a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry? What was that?” He yelped when Fenris thumped him in the chest with a fist. He smiled ruefully as he rubbed the sore spot. “Alright, I won’t push my luck. But the fact remains that I’m still losing control.”

Isabela’s voice brought both of their heads around to look at her as she walked closer to them. “So learn to control yourself again.” She squatted down in front of them. “We know a Seer in Rivain who can help you.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You think she would help?”

“We did save her life,” Isabela said with a shrug.

“Only because we refused to kill her for money.”

Isabela grinned. “Hey, it counts!”

Anders sat up and gave them both a narrow look. “What are you talking about?”

“Seers in Rivain are sometimes… hosts,” Isabela explained. “They could help you. And it would be a good place to disappear for a while.”

Hope lit the mage’s expression. “Would you take me there?” he asked Isabela.

The pirate sighed. “Well we need to go somewhere. We might as well start there.” She stood up straight and offered them each a hand up.

They both groaned as they stood. Their injuries were not superficial. Anders healed himself, then turned to Fenris and raised a questioning brow. The elf nodded and gritted his teeth as the mage reached out to touch him. His muscles spasmed as the healing spell ran through the lyrium in his skin. It was over quickly because other than several very severe bruises, and one fractured bone in his upper arm he was relatively okay so the spell didn’t need to be very strong.

Exhausted from the ordeal of the last few days, the fight, and now the healing, Anders excused himself to go lay down. He paused and turned back to Fenris. “You said I should have thought about how my actions would affect my friends…” Anders gave him a half smile. “I’ll keep you in mind the next time I feel like doing something stupid. I don’t think I’d like having my jaw broken every time it happens.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Fenris’ mouth and he nodded.

“Aw, how cute,” Isabela jeered from beside him. “I think you two are adorable. I can’t wait to catch you holding hands.” She just grinned when Fenris glared at her. “All that tussling around on the deck. That’s going to be naughty fantasy material for a while!”

Fenris rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He leaned close to whisper in her ear loud enough for Anders to also hear. “Just so long as I’m on top, you can fantasize all you want.” He grinned widely at their shocked expressions. Striking them both speechless was supremely satisfying. He curled a finger under Isabela’s open jaw to lift it shut. He winked at them and left to go search for Hawke.

 

[Art by Nazgullow](http://nazgullow.deviantart.com/)


	38. Chapter 38

Fenris found Hawke in Isabela’s cabin.  He was lying on his back on the bed with an arm thrown over his face.  His other arm was draped over Spark who took up most of the space.  The mabari lifted his head to see who was entering the room.  He gave a little whine as he laid his head back down on Hawke’s chest.  The mage rubbed Spark’s ears absently.    
  
“Gabe?”  When he didn’t receive an answer, he met Spark’s eyes and tilted his head toward the open door in a silent request.  The mabari got up and trotted out of the cabin, stopping to lick his hand.  Fenris gave him a pat on shoulder and shut the door.    
  
Hawke’s breathing was deep and even.  Deciding not to disturb him, Fenris quietly cleaned the blood and sweat from his skin.  He stripped down and crawled into the bed with his mage.  _My mage,_ he thought.  It was a strange concept for a magister's ex slave to accept, but it felt more natural with every passing day.  Once again he felt a rush of gratitude that Hawke had grown up free.  He reached out and brushed black hair away from Hawke’s face.  
  
With a sleepy mumble, Hawke turned onto his side and pulled Fenris close.  The elf smiled and closed his eyes as the mage nuzzle the side of his face.  He tilted his head slightly and brushed his lips against the larger man’s.  The soft caress gradually turned into a kiss.  
  
Fenris slipped his tongue into Hawke’s mouth causing them both to moan quietly.  Electricity buzzed through his tattoos where the man’s fingers touched his bare skin.  He slipped his own hands up under Hawke’s shirt to press his palms against his warm stomach muscles.  At a gentle thrust of the mage’s hips, Fenris slipped his hands down until he could slip his fingers under the waistband of his trousers.  The cloth caught against his wrists so he could only touch the crisp hair low on his stomach.  
  
Without breaking the kiss, Hawke reached down and tugged at the ties until his trousers fell open.  Fenris used the new freedom to wrap his fingers around the mage’s hard length.  It twitched against his palm, and he squeezed gently.    
  
“Mm, yes,” Hawke murmured.  He started trailing soft kisses down Fenris’ chin and neck, pausing to suck softly just above his collarbone.  “That’s what I need,” he whispered in between sucking kisses.  He thrust his hips slowly.    
  
Fenris slid his palm over the head of Hawke’s erection causing him to jump.  The mage leaned back and looked down to watch.  The blue glow of Fenris’ tattoos shone brightly between their bodies.    
  
Still watching, Hawke traced the lines of lyrium on Fenris’ hip absently.  His eyelids drooped and his breathing hitched.  The movement of his hips became erratic.    
  
Fenris watched Hawke’s face as he stroked him to orgasm.  The warm splash of seed against his palm and wrist sent goosebumps up his arm.  He smiled softly when the mage opened his eyes to look at him.  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his voice raspy.  He continued stroking lightly, making Hawke’s stomach muscles jump involuntarily.  
  
“No complaints here,” Hawke replied quietly.  He continued brushing his fingers over Fenris’ skin, and leaned forward to lick one of the markings on shoulder.  Still twitching from the elf’s caresses he lazily slid his hand down over Fenris’ hip and grabbed his knee.  With a quick twist of strong muscles he rolled onto his back and pulled the smaller man onto his chest.  He reached down and kneaded the back of Fenris’ thighs.  He slipped one hand up between his legs and teased the sensitive skin under his testicles making the elf harden painfully against Hawke’s stomach.  

 

“You’re turn,” Hawke said in a husky voice.  
  
He nudged Fenris upwards until the elf straddled his shoulders then leaned up and tongued the tender skin he’d been teasing.  He pulled each orb into his mouth one at a time, letting them slide out with a quiet sucking noise.  His hands came up and pressed against Fenris’ lower back until he leaned forward and braced himself against the wall.    
  
Fenris looked down and watched as Hawke took him into his mouth.  He was at the perfect angle to thrust deep into his throat, but he attempted to hold still until the mage grabbed his ass and pulled him closer.  Obeying the silent request he began to thrust slowly.  He tried to keep eye contact, but when Hawke swallowed Fenris groaned and closed his eyes.  He tried to stay gentle, but the mage’s hot slick mouth was driving him crazy and he thrust deeper.  He tried to prolong it, but the finger that slid into him to press against the sensitive nerves inside threw him over the edge.  He cried out as he came, and forced his eyes open to watch as Hawke swallowed and then released him to go back to licking his testicles.  
  
The fingers inside him continued to stroke sending shockwaves through his whole body.    
  
“Gabe, stop,” he managed to gasp.  
  
“Not yet,” Hawke whispered, his breath hot against Fenris’ sensitive flesh.  “I want you ready for me.”  
  
Fenris shuddered when another finger joined the first.  He was getting hard again and the electric buzz running from the markings on his thighs up through his stomach had him gasping.  He whimpered when Hawke finally stopped.  
  
Hawke lifted Fenris by the hips and pushed him down onto his stomach on the bed.  The mage quickly removed what was left of his clothing and straddled Fenris’ thighs and with his thumbs spread the strong muscles of his ass, making him feel exposed.  Hawke rubbed his cock between the cheeks a few times before pressing against the tight ring of muscle.    
  
“I’ll try to be careful,” he said as he pressed forward.  “I have no idea where Isabela keeps her oils.”  
  
Fenris chuckled.  “It’s probably nearby, but I don’t want you to stop and look for it.”  
  
“Thank the Maker,” Hawke said as he finally pushed fully inside.  He leaned forward until his body hovered over Fenris.  He placed soft kisses over the elf’s shoulders as he began gently moving his hips.  
  
Fenris buried his face in the pillow and pushed his hips back to meet Hawke’s.  The mage whispered his love and his lust against the tip of Fenris’ ear.  The slap of skin against skin, gasping breaths, and husky words filled the cabin until they both cried out their release again.    
  
Hawke collapsed on top of Fenris, and it took several minutes before he was able to extract himself and move to the side.  Fenris stayed on his stomach and enjoyed the feel of Hawke’s heavy arm and thigh draped across his body.  Soft golden light mixed with the blue glow of Fenris’ tattoos in the dimness of the cabin as Hawke cast a gentle healing spell to take away any sting that might have been left over by their lovemaking.    
  
They fell asleep to the ambient sound of waves slapping against the hull and the gentle rock of the sea.  
  
 _The clang of steel weapons against bronze mixed with panicked shouts filled the courtyard.  Fenris dodged a huge fist just in time as it smashed the stones where he stood. The impact nearly knocked him off his feet. A familiar voice called his name, shouting for him to look out. Vines shot up through the broken stones to wrap around the statue, pinning it in place._  
  
 _Fenris glanced over his shoulder to see Merrill already focusing on a new target. Blood ran from cuts on her inner arms, making him frown. He didn't approve of blood magic, but it was making her more effective. He pushed down the vague worry that she would lose too much blood in the fight._

 

_Spells flew through the courtyard, but the non-mages in the battle had little to worry about.  Hawke’s friends had been fighting together for years, and they knew how to protect each other as well as stay out of each other’s way._  
  
 _Hawke was taking the brunt of Meredith's attack.  If it weren’t for the occasional bolt from Bianca, he’d be overwhelmed.  Everyone else was kept busy by the magically controlled bronze statues.  Fenris tried to reach him, but couldn’t find an opening in the fight._

  
_The moment was endless.  For every statue he took down, two seemed to take its place.  Panic filled him. He needed to reach Hawke. He knew if reached the mage, he could plunge his sword into Meredith's back. She would turn on him, wrenching his sword out of his hands.  Hawke would be able to take advantage of the distraction..._  
  
This has already happened.    
  
Knowing that he was dreaming didn't help. He still couldn't reach Hawke. He struggled to wake up.  As he fought against the pull of the dream around him it began to change.  
  
 _A soft, warm breeze brushed over him.  It dried the sweat on his skin, and blew his hair into his eyes. Isabela's laughter reached his ears. It pulled his attention away from the fight. The statue's fist swept through his body as if he were no longer there.  The blow should have thrown him across the courtyard, but now that he was no longer engrossed with this part of the dream, he felt nothing. The battle paused around him. He backed away from the statue and was surprised to see a copy of himself frozen in battle with it as he moved away._  
  
 _He walked toward the portcullis and left the gallows.  Meredith’s scream of defeat followed him as Hawke pumped her full of lightning.  It dwindled quickly from his mind when he realized his lover was safe._  
  
 _The scene around him faded and he was on Isabela’s ship.  Hawke stood beside him at the railing, face turned into the warm wind, eyes closed.  He leaned against the railing and smiled cheerfully.  Fenris felt his lips curve in response.  The breeze was strong and pushed them further away from the battles and the death._  
  
A tickle against his arm pulled his attention from the dream.  Now that it had changed to something more pleasant he didn’t want to wake, but Fenris opened his eyes to the darkness of Isabela’s cabin, dimly lit by his markings.  He could still feel the wind on his skin even though he was inside.  The brush of hair on his arm was accompanied by the weight of Isabela's head on his shoulder. He had a moment of disorientation and he jerked slightly as he came fully awake.  
  
"Bela?" He said hoarsely.  "What are you doing here?"  
  
Isabela shifted closer to him and threw her arm over his chest.  "Sleeping," she mumbled. "That's what beds are for, right?"  
  
Fenris chuckled. "Among other things I suppose."  
  
Isabela lifted her head to look at him. Her face was illuminated by the soft glow of his tattoos so he could see her smirk sleepily.  “Oh yes, and you and Hawke were doing those ‘other things’ in _my_ bed not too long ago.”  
  
“You said we could use your cabin,” Fenris reminded her.  
  
She put her head back down on his shoulder.  “I said I’d share my cabin, not that you could use it exclusively.”  
  
“Looking for a way to get between us again?” he asked with another soft laugh.  The woman was incorrigible.  And sometimes insatiable.    
  
“Always,” she replied in a mumble.    
  
Fenris reached up with his free hand and brushed her hair away from her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead.  She smiled slightly, but didn’t move.  It seemed that at the moment she was more interested in sleep than anything.  It was understandable considering what they’d just gone through.  This was probably the first time she’d slowed down since they’d left Kirkwall.    
  
“Where’s Gabe?” he asked her before she could go back to sleep.  She mumbled something, but he was able to catch the fact that Hawke had gone up on deck when she’d come to bed.  He disentangled himself and left the bed, making sure the blanket was tucked closely around her.    
  
After dressing he went up on the deck and focused on his ring.  Following its pull he quickly found Hawke.  The mage was leaning against the rail, his face turned into the wind.  Fenris walked up beside him and looked up at his face, already expecting the cheerful smile he vaguely remembered from his dream.  What he found instead sent a jolt through him.  
  
Hawke’s eyes were open and the moonlight glimmered off the tears that poured down his cheeks.  
  
“Gabe?” Fenris asked worriedly.  He reached up to slide his fingers through Hawke’s beard.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
Hawke stared out the ocean when he spoke.  “Did I make the wrong choice?” he asked.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  Fenris tugged gently until Hawke turned to look at him.  The anguish in his eyes tore at his heart.  He’d seen the mage upset plenty of times, but he had never seen this.  
  
“I don’t know where to start,” Hawke said softly.  “I feel like I’ve made so many mistakes.  I could have taken Carver with me on the expedition.  I could have looked into my mother’s suitor.  What if I’d talked Merrill out of going to that demon for help?  Her clan might still be alive.  What if I hadn’t agreed to take Anders to the Chantry?”  He stopped and took a shuddering breath.  “Should I have let him live after what he’s done?”  
  
Fenris blinked in surprise.  Hawke had seemed so sure of his decision.  “Do you think killing him would have prevented what happened at the Gallows?  Would it have made things right?” he asked.  
  
Hawke looked back out to sea.  “No,” he answered.  “But I thought about it.  I also felt like hugging him for breaking the stalemate.  For having the courage to do something about the abuses the mages were enduring.  Deep down I knew that becoming Viscount would never happen.  Being Champion did not stop the people of Kirkwall from fearing me.  But I didn’t know what else to do…”  
  
Fenris tilted his head.  “What does Compassion think?”  
  
“She’s horrified.”  
  
“About what exactly?”  
  
Hawke reached up and wiped the tears from his face.  “She’s upset that I even considered killing one of my best friends.  She’s upset that I kind of agree with what he did.  She’s struggling with the contradictions.”  
  
“Sounds like the same problem Justice is having,” Fenris said thoughtfully.  “Hopefully Anders can get him under control.”  
  
“Or teach him to understand that life on our side of the Veil is not quite so simple as ‘just and unjust’,” Hawke replied.  He turned to look down at Fenris, and in the darkness his eyes looked black.  “Isabela told me what you suggested earlier.  About going to the Seer for help?  Thank you for that.”  
  
Fenris shrugged.  “I wouldn’t want you to lose your pet abomination.”  
  
Hawke snorted.  It wasn’t quite a laugh, but his lips twitched up into a small smile.  “Please don’t call him that,” he said.  “At least not where he can hear you.”  
  


“You should do that more,” Fenris said softly.  
  
Hawke wrapped his arm around Fenris and raised a curious eyebrow.  “What?” he asked.  
  
“Smile.  Laugh.”  
  
The smile spread slightly.  “Maybe I need a reason to.”  
  
Feigning serious thought, Fenris scratched his chin.  “I could tell you a joke,” he said.  
  
“Is it a good one?” Hawke asked.  
  
“Definitely not,” Fenris answered with a sly smile.  “That’s what makes it funny.  Did you hear the one about the man who found the mabari in the bar?”  
  
Hawke rolled his eyes.  “Of course.  It’s one of mine.”  
  
“Hm.  How about this one?  What did one ocean say to the other ocean?”  He watched with amusement as Hawke frowned.  Obviously this horrible joke was not one of his repertoire.  “Nothing.  It just waved.”  
  
Hawke’s face went blank for a moment as he took in the punch line.  His laughter started as a rumble in his chest that moved upward until he tilted his head back and laughed out loud.  “Oh Maker that’s _awful_.  Where did you hear that one?”  
  
“Donnic.”  
  
“Aveline picked a good one, didn’t she?”    
  
Fenris was pleased to see that Hawke’s smile only faded slightly instead of disappearing at the mention of the friends they left behind.  Aveline wouldn’t leave her men in the guard, and Varric was determined to spread enough tales that the rest of them would be too hard to track down.  Their reasons were sound, but they were missed.  The guard would take care of Aveline, and Varric was nearly untouchable but it was hard not to worry about them.  
  
“Indeed,” Fenris answered.    
  
Hawke turned until they were pressed chest to chest, making the elf tilt his head back even more to look up at him.  His eyes were melancholy, but his smile was genuine.  “So did I,” he said softly.    
  
“Did we ever thank Anso?” Fenris asked with a smirk.  His tattoos flickered slightly when Hawke chuckled.  He reached up to brush the black locks of hair out of the mage’s eyes.  “You did the right thing, Gabe.”  
  
“Did I?”  
  
Fenris nodded.  “You are a good person, and you followed your heart.  I trust your decision.”  
  
Hawke leaned forward until their foreheads touched.  They stood that way for several minutes just enjoying the moonlight and the breeze and each other’s company.  

   
“So…” Hawke said into the silence.  “What do a tree and a mabari have in common?”  
  
He knew he was going to regret it, but Fenris sighed and played along.  “I don’t know.  What?”  
  
“Bark!”  
  
Fenris’ pained groan was drowned out by Hawke’s delighted laughter.  He felt his lips pull up into a smile, and soon he was also chuckling.  The sound of their joy spread across the ship as they told each other stupid jokes.  Soon they would have to face their problems again, but for now they both took advantage of the peace they found together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. 
> 
> Well, the end of this story anyway. I have a vague idea of something I'd like to do as a sequel and even a short prequel, but it may be a while before I get to it. I have some original stuff I'm working on that I may post over at FictionPress. Maybe. Anyway, thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this, and seeing all the kudos and comments totally made this one of the funnest things I've done in years. This is the longest story I've ever written, and it's been a huge object lesson and confidence booster.


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